Contempt
by solojones
Summary: Post SR. When Lex makes his vendetta against Superman personal, Clark's life and those of everyone around him will be changed forever. Crime and romance mixed with angst, a lot of angst. A hopefully different kind of take on the post SR world.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Contempt  
**Author**: solojones  
**Rating**: T  
**Genre:** crime drama/angst/romance  
**Disclaimer**: Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.  
**Summary**: Post Superman Returns. When Lex Luthor makes his vendetta against Superman personal, Clark's life and those of everyone around him will be changed forever.  
**Author's Notes**: I love SII, but I don't buy the memory wipe kiss. Superman and Lois had a relationship, she didn't know he was Clark, more will be explained within the story.

* * *

**Prologue**

It would all be worth it.

The years of failed plots, prison, hiding out, all of it was going to be vindicated. Lex Luthor had finally discovered the key to his perfect revenge. And it had practically been staring them, all of them, in the face for years. _Masterful,_ Luthor thought, his eyes fixed on the papers and photos in front of him. For once in his life, he'd been had. But where there might have been anger, instead he felt only a deep sense of amusement.

In the silence of the dark apartment, Luthor's soft laughter seemed to fill the air. "Oh, I underestimated you," he chuckled to himself. Normally, brains weren't exactly what he'd have credited the 'Man of Steel' with, but Lex had to hand it to Superman. It turned out the man had what could almost be viewed as a masochistic kind of cleverness about him. Luthor was beginning to feel for once that Superman might be a worthy opponent for him.

And the loftier he was, the harder he would fall.

"Leeeex!" a whining ache of a female voice interrupted his reverie.

Luthor closed his eyes, summoning what little patience he had. "Kitty, you must take some sort of perverse pleasure in interrupting the moments of my greatest triumphs." He opened his eyes and glanced up at the flamboyantly dressed woman, who was smacking her gum impatiently.

"Uhhg!" she exclaimed in a dramatic sigh. "This is your greatest triumph, Lex? We finally got a boat to take us off that crummy little island so that we could come sit in this crummy little apartment and spy on people?"

Lex rubbed his temples slowly with his fingertips. "I know you couldn't possibly realize it, but this project is the most important of my life. More important than land or money or your damned fur coats."

She gritted her teeth and put her hands on her hips. "Hiring people to follow Superman? Where's that going to get us? I think you're just scared." He stared at her coolly. "You couldn't kill him last time, and now you're just hiding from him." She huffed. "I don't think you could kill him if you wanted to. He's stronger than you."

Lex snapped to his feet, pushing his chair over with a loud _clang!_ He took strong, slow steps towards Kitty, who began back-peddling in fear. "My only mistake before was underestimating his ability to use his bran. But now I know, and I know the precise degree to which his intellect _pales_ in comparison with mine. And this time, the fight will be on _my terms_!" he shouted, then took a deep breath. More calmly, he added, "This time, he won't just be able to pick something heavy up and toss it out of the way."

Kitty stared at Lex, frozen in terror and shaking slightly. He stepped back, straightened his tie, then spoke in a low, menacing voice. "A fight to the death is playing by his rules. I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to make his life a living hell."

Suddenly, Lex's mood shifted to one of near glee at the thought of just what he could do with the information he possessed. Smiling, he waved Kitty over to the desk. Reluctantly, she stepped forward, eyeing the photos and bagged objects as though they might jump up and bite her.

"I know this is hard for you, Kitty, but try to think- why would I have spent weeks following Superman, Lois Lane-"

Kitty snorted derisively. "Tramp."

Lex rolled his eyes at her petty jealousy. "Their son," he continued, "and…?"

Kitty looked like she was drawing a blank. Lex held up another photo. "That boring reporter?" she asked, smacking her gum loudly.

A ghost of a smile played across Lex's lips. "Yes, that boring reporter," he said, with something almost resembling admiration. "Clark Kent, the mild-mannered, pathetic, reclusive farm boy. Completely benign, totally harmless..."

Lex turned and picked up a bag with a stapler in it. "This belonged to him, before my well-placed intern friend swiped it. And this," he picked up a signed picture of Superman another lackey had gotten for his dear old 'uncle'. Lex held the two objects in front of Kitty, waving them around. "Now, what do you suppose is on these?" he asked as though speaking to a child.

"Bacteria," Kitty replied laconically.

Shaking his head, Lex plopped the two bags back on the table and picked up a long sheet of photo paper with several small snapshots on it. "Fingerprints," he said, tapping each example as he spoke, "Very. Unique. Fingerprints." He smiled. "But, oddly enough, identical."

"So, what's your point?" Kitty asked in a mixture of confusion and impatience.

"My point, darling," Lex said, beaming, "is that Clark Kent is Superman."


	2. Chapter 1

"R-A-V-I-N-O-U-S," Lois spelled out loud to herself as she jotted her thoughts on this headline down. She stared at the word on the paper. _Ravinous_. That was right, wasn't it? "Ravinous Looters Stamped Out by Superman," she read matter-of-factly. It seemed fine. If it wasn't, well, that's what copy editors were for.

Lois sighed as she tossed the notebook onto her desk. Her heart wasn't really in this story anyway. She'd been energized by the blackout story, but that had quickly been deep-sixed once she had an eye-witness account of Luthor's more grandiose crimes.

But Luthor was last month's news. And now Perry had eagerly sent her back to her once niche spot, the Superman beat. Five years ago, she would have been thrilled. But now it was just… way too complicated.

Superman had been gracious enough to grant her a few exclusive interviews, but it had all stayed very professional and brief. Lois had the feeling he was trying hard to give her some space, which was either the first or last thing she wanted. She supposed the fact that she couldn't decide which it was probably meant he was right.

And Richard hadn't been making things any easier by somehow managing to both give her space to sort out her feelings and lavishing attention on her. How was it possible to have two wonderful men looking out for her, even when she didn't know what the hell she was doing?

In a burst of impulsive frustration, Lois snatched her notepad off her desk and scratched out the headline she had written down. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her focus.

"Lois?"

The tentative address caused her to open her eyes and look up to see Clark. His lanky form towered over the desk and he was holding a cup of Starbucks coffee. "Hey," she replied, scooting towards her desk to get back to her computer. She preferred the old-fashioned way, but at least this had spell-check.

"Another hectic day," Clark commented.

"Yeah." She had logged on and opened a text file, but he was still standing there, silently. Lois slowly turned her head up towards him, giving him a questioning look. He smiled timidly but said nothing. Lord, he could be so awkward. "Did you need something, Clark?" she prompted, in a tone she hoped was friendly.

"Ah, no, I just…" he thrust the coffee cup towards her. "Here."

"Oh," she was surprised. "You don't want that?"

"It's for you. Non-fat latté with cinnamon… I don't know if it's still your favorite, but I thought you'd take it anyway, seeing how tired you look," he rambled.

Lois took the cup from him, genuinely surprised and grateful. "Thanks," she said, taking a sip. This was just what she needed. "It is still my favorite. How on earth did you remember that, though?"

Clark shrugged and shifted his weight. "You must have drank a thousand of those when we used to work together."

Lois thought that estimate might be a little low, but he had a point. Still, she didn't remember a single thing Clark had liked to drink. "Well, I appreciate it," she said with a smile.

He adjusted the side of his glasses in that nervous way he did. "Good. You always seem too busy to go out for coffee so I just though I'd bring some to you."

Lois felt a pang of guilt. She had been busy, but not too busy for coffee and a chat. He just kept asking her if she wanted to catch up and she kept finding excuses not to. There was a lot on her mind right now, and she didn't feel up to hearing about Clark's extended vacation.

Clark cleared his throat. "Well, I don't want to keep you from your story." He turned and started walking back towards his desk across the room. Lois guessed he'd given up on trying to have that chat.

After a moment's hesitation, Lois shot out of her chair and strode after him. "Hey Clark, wait," she said, getting him to stop and turn around.

"Do you need something else?" he asked. "Because I don't have a lot to do. I could go-"

"No," she cut him off. "I just realized I'm ahead of my deadline for once. And I was wondering if you wanted to go have lunch, get caught up, tell me about your trip…"

His eyes lit up. "Sure!" he replied enthusiastically. "That'd be great. I mean, as long as you're sure you don't need to stay here."

Lois smiled and shook her head. "Nope. I'm all yours, Smallville."

She had already turned and headed for the door, missing the way Clark's jaw tightened at her comment.

* * *

"Sheep heart and lungs," Lois said skeptically.

Clark nodded. "Well, cooked, obviously… in a sheep's bladder."

Lois made a face. "Not exactly my idea of fine dining." She made a mental note to never, ever touch this haggis stuff if she was in Scotland.

"Actually, it was pretty good," he insisted, "Kind of like a sausage, only with some oats rolled in…"

"Ok, I regret asking that question," she replied, taking a bite of her eggplant sandwich, delighted that it was completely free of farm animal organs. Clark was watching her, a small smile on his face. He kept doing that every time he thought she was too distracted by something else to notice. But she definitely noticed. She went on chewing quietly, trying to pretend she didn't.

"Water?" the waitress asked, appearing suddenly at the table.

"Yes, please," Clark said, sliding his glass over to her. She filled it up and handed it back. "Thank you," he replied, ever polite. Lois waved that she didn't need any more water and the waitress went to her next table, leaving them in a sinking silence.

Lois needed something to talk about before this became more uneasy than it already was. It wasn't that she disliked Clark. He was a nice guy, extremely well-mannered, like a Gregory Peck character who had stepped right out of the 1940s. Her grandmother probably would have loved him.

"What was the most dangerous place you went?" she asked, having finally found a question she felt was safe to ask without too much risk of a strange answer.

Clark finished swallowing a bite of his sandwich, thinking on his reply. "Probably Uganda," he said. "There's this fanatic military group there, the Lord's Resistance Army, that kidnaps children and enlists them as soldiers." He frowned. "Not a nice thing to see."

"No, I image not," Lois replied gravely. Then a thought occurred to her. "Clark, how many countries have you been to now?"

"I don't know. A lot." He licked some sauce off his thumb, and Lois tried not to cringe. So much for manners. "I got to every continent, except Antarctica of course. It's a little too cold," he said with a smile.

"You know," she began, "you should talk to Richard about doing some work in the international section for him. Finding good reporters who know anything going on outside Metropolis is hard."

Clark chewed his food rather slowly. "Sure. You're right, that's a good idea." He gave what appeared to be a rather forced smile.

"Hey!" a voice called from across the restaurant. Lois and Clark both looked to see that Richard had entered, right on cue. As Richard approached the table, Clark gave him a sidelong glance while dabbing his face with his napkin.

But Lois couldn't have been more happy to see him. "Richard, fancy seeing you here."

"Same to you," he replied, smiling down at her. To both of them, he said, "I was just walking by to go down to Starbucks when I saw you guys in the window. All right if I sit down?" the question was really only aimed at Clark. Both Lois and Richard looked at him.

"Absolutely," he said, with a bit too much mustered enthusiasm.

Richard and Lois exchanged glances as he sat down beside her. "Clark was just telling me all about his travels," she explained.

"I heard about that," Richard said, nodding. "Five years? That must have been some trip."

"It was," Clark replied. "I used up a lot of my savings on it, too, so it's a lucky thing I got my job back. I really missed the Planet and…and everyone. Perry and Lois and Jimmy and just…everyone." Clark's eyes fell back to his plate as he took another bite of his sandwich.

Lois jumped in before the dreaded awkward silence could creep back in. "Clark is interested in doing some international pieces," she told Richard. He perked up at the idea.

"That would be great," he acknowledged. "It's been a tough road getting it back into shape, and we could use someone with field experience."

"Well, I don't know that I'd call it-" Clark began, only to be cut off by Lois.

"And Clark really does have a gift for words." _On paper, anyway_, she thought. Almost unconsciously, Lois took Richard's hand and started drawing circles on it with her thumb. It was a comforting gesture that was almost second nature with Richard at this point. He smiled at her sweetly, then turned to Clark.

"Yeah, I'll see what I might have for you when we get back to the Planet," Richard said.

Clark set what remained of his sandwich down. "That's very nice of you," he said graciously, before pausing for a moment. "Pardon me," he said, standing. "I need to go use the restroom." He pushed in his chair neatly, and headed for the men's room.

When she was sure Clark was out of earshot, Lois heaved a huge sigh. "Oh, God, Richard, please save me."

"That bad?" he asked, chuckling a little.

"He's a really nice guy, but I can't believe he still has that schoolboy crush on me."

"Yeah, I'd noticed that," Richard replied, much more amused than aggravated.

Lois rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "It's not exactly a state secret. I'm just surprised that after so long…"

Richard tilted her chin up and smiled at her. "Well, you're Lois Lane. Can you blame a guy for falling hard for you?"

She returned his smile, feeling a surge of affection, and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips. When they parted, she sat back in her seat, and he let go of her hand. "It's just that from the way he acts, you'd think we had been in some sort of serious relationship instead of on one date."

Richard's brow furrowed in confusion. He acted as though he hadn't heard right. "Wait… did you say a _date_?"

Lois groaned, regretting that she had mentioned that. She felt like it was something Richard could now tease her about endlessly. "It was when he first started working at the Planet," she explained. "I hardly knew him, he asked me out, and I said yes. I was trying to be nice."

"What happened?" Richard asked, leaning forward onto the table. Lois got the sense he was enjoying this too much.

"Nothing," Lois replied coolly, giving him a hard stare that said she was not nearly as amused as he. "I don't even remember where we went. After all, it was-". She stopped herself short of saying 'the first night I interviewed Superman'. That part, she definitely remembered. "It was a long time ago," she finished.

"Well, judging by the way he follows you around the Planet like a lost puppy, I'd say that's not how he sees it."

Lois sighed. "To be fair, we did use to be partners. We worked on a lot of stories together. I don't blame him for wanting to catch up. And he's always had a crush on me, but I've just been able to ignore it. Since he got back, though, he's just seemed… different."

Richard paused, his expression turning serious. "You want me to talk to him?"

Lois thought about it for a moment as she took another bite of her sandwich. Maybe it would be best to just get things out in the open, as uncomfortable as that kind of conversation would be… She glanced towards the restroom, but saw that Clark had still not returned. "No," she started slowly, looking back at Richard. "That would probably just make things worse. And it's not like he's dangerous or something. I could have much worse admirers. Actually, I probably do."

"You're right. But let me know if Clark gets out of hand and you need me to beat him up for you." He winked, then leaned over to give her a longer kiss.

Just as they were pulling apart, a voice from across the table them spoke up. "Ah…" Lois pulled back and looked up to see Clark standing with his hands in his pockets, looking extremely ill at ease.

"I remembered that I have an interview with the head of the water processing plant at 1:30," Clark said, rather quickly. "I thought it was 2:30 but I just remembered that he changed it to an hour earlier, so, um…" he pulled out his wallet and took several bills out, laying them on the table. "Hopefully that's enough for all of us. You too, Richard, if you want something."

"You don't have to…" Lois started.

"It's ok. My treat," Clark replied, He seemed like he was trying to avoid making eye contact with Lois, but that proved impossible. It was like his eyes were magnetically drawn towards her. He glanced at her for a moment, then looked away. "See you both later, then," he said, turning promptly for the door. He nearly tripped over a chair, and Lois almost thought she heard him curse under his breath as he pushed it in then continued on his way.

"Hey, wait, your change…" Richard tried to tell him, but Clark was already out the door and headed for the sidewalk.

Richard turned back to Lois. "Ok, that was weird," he admitted.

"That's Clark. He always does that," she replied.

"Tripping over things or bolting in the middle of a conversation?"

"Both, actually," Lois said, taking a sip of her water.

Richard glanced out the window, eyeing Clark as he disappeared into the crowd on the sidewalk. "You don't think he heard any of what we said, do you?" he asked, concerned.

She hoped not. There were some things that had to be said but couldn't be said to a person's face. Yet now she felt a little guilty. Clark seemed to take everything she said to heart, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"No," she replied slowly. "I don't think he heard us. How could he?"


	3. Chapter 2

NOTE: sorry it took so long to get this up. I have a lot of this story written and it shouldn't happen again, I just moved into a new apartment and I don't have internet yet. It should be fixed in a few days (I hope!)

* * *

Lex flipped over to page A6, practically giggling as he read the article. It was well-written, all right, but he just couldn't take it seriously. All that non-sense about how the U.N. treaty in Darfur was useless and the call to curb the genocide. Coming from Clark Kent, this was fabulously ironic.

"What are you laughing about?" Kitty asked, looking up from painting her nails.

Lex shook his head. "To hear him call on other people to stop ignoring the horrors going on in the world is priceless, Kitty, just priceless." He closed the paper and tossed it on his desk. "Oh, he's a true protector of the people. Except when he decides to take off for half a decade."

Kitty picked up the paper and scanned the article. "He sure does use some big words…" she mused.

But Lex was, wisely, ignoring her blathering. He'd turned his attention back to the computer on the desk and its display of several surveillance cameras. One in Richard White's office, one in the Daily Planet Bullpen, and one outside Clark Kent's new apartment. He'd wished he could get that last one inside, but he didn't want to take the chance of one of his new goons leaving something incriminating behind. These cameras had to be able to come down quickly. They all had to be extra careful for this to work.

Kitty strode over and stood behind Lex, blowing on her nails to dry them as she stared at the screen. Clark Kent was currently at his desk, typing away. Every once in a while, he would glance over to where Lois Lane was sitting. Lex smiled wickedly at how pathetic the Man of Steel's situation was. What made it more sweet was that this mess was his own fault.

_He's going to have much more to worry about before long_, Lex thought.

"He doesn't look like Superman," Kitty commented. "Superman never slouches. And he's got those eyes that seem like they're looking right through you." She paused and added wistfully, "Maybe they are."

It took a considerable amount of Lex's reserve patience to keep from throwing this woman into the river with a nice, heavy bundle of bricks attached to her gaudy necklaces. He clenched his hand and drew a breath, then released them both. He still might need her for a while longer, so he'd have to endure her stupidity. "Of course he doesn't seem to be Superman. That's the whole point. But when you know, it's so glaringly obvious." He shook his head in wonder.

"Ok, but I still don't get why we're sitting in here watching him all the time," Kitty replied. "Are you ever going to _do_ something Lex?"

"I have done something, Kitty," he replied coyly. "I'm just waiting for the missile to hit its target."

Kitty looked at him, confused. "You launched a missile? That won't do anything, will it?"

"That was a figure of speech," Lex spat back. He pointed her attention towards the computer. He saw Kent turn his head in the direction of Richard White's office, and flipped on the audio.

"_Sure, just a second_," Kent said, with what Lex felt was a bit of resentment in his voice. The reporter began grabbing a notepad and pen from his desk.

"This," Lex said slowly, "is where the attack begins."

* * *

Clark sat at his desk, typing up his notes on a recent speech Kofi Annan had given. He kept unintentionally glancing over at Lois, just to catch a glimpse of her when she wasn't looking. Every time he did, he'd stop himself after a few seconds and get back to work.

Clark had been trying hard the last few days to avoid Lois. He'd been spending a good amount of time away from the Planet on 'errands' or 'interviews', seeing as how parts of Metropolis were still a mess. But he couldn't avoid his paying job completely. He'd thought that he could still be close to her at work while letting her have space to figure things out with Superman. But it hadn't worked out very well. She had picked up on what he figured was probably an inordinate amount of attention from her coworker, and Clark had realized he needed to back off even here.

So he'd been containing himself to his side of the bullpen, his desk, and of course Richard's office, now that he was doing some international pieces. Those he liked, but trading in working with Lois, as painful as it could be for him, for working with Richard had presented a special new kind of torture for him.

_They are a family. You have no business being part of that_, he had told himself over and over. He was starting to wonder if this was the way it was always going to be, observing from an even greater distance as their lives went on.

"Hey, Clark, will you come in here for a minute?" Richard asked, from the door of his office. "I think I have a lead we'll want to follow up on right away."

The word _we_ in that sentence made Clark a little uneasy, but he wasn't going to let uncomfortable personal relationships get in the way of his work. "Sure, just a second," he replied, gathering up a notepad and pen. He lumbered over to Richard's office and went inside. Richard shut the door behind them.

Clark froze for a moment when he saw that Jason was sitting in Richard's swivel chair, spinning himself around in circles. "Hi, Mr. Clark," the boy said with a smile.

"Hi Jason," Clark said, finding his voice and feeling a familiar lump forming in his throat. Every time Lois or Richard had brought his- _their_ son into the office, Clark had found it extremely hard to say anything to the boy.

"Daddy's letting me help," Jason announced, continuing his spinning. Richard smiled and strode over towards his son. He scooped the boy out of the chair and hoisted him above his head.

"Oh yeah?" Richard asked playfully. "How are you going to help from up there?"

"I can help," Jason insisted, spreading his arms wide as if he were flying. "I'm Superman!"

The room quickly went as silent as a black hole. Clark pushed his glasses up and looked away from Richard, who seemed unsure how to react. And poor Jason looked like a kid who'd been called to the principle's office but didn't know what he'd done wrong.

After what seemed like an eternity of uncomfortable stillness, Richard lowered Jason to the ground and patted him on the head. "Hey, champ, why don't you go find your mom? Clark and I have some boring business stuff to talk about."

Jason nodded compliantly. "Ok. Bye Mr. Clark!" he waved to Clark as he scampered towards the exit, his energy returned to him.

"Bye Jason," Clark said, almost inaudibly, as he watched his son leave the room and shut the door behind him. But he kept watching, through the door, as the boy ran over to Lois and began tugging on her arm.

"So, Clark, big break," Richard said.

"What?" Clark asked, jerking his attention away from Lois and Jason back to Richard. It was a hard feat.

Richard ignored what he seemed to think was Clark's attention deficit disorder, as he'd been doing the last few days they'd been working together. "I got an interesting call this morning," he began.

"Oh?" Clark inquired, curious as to how this involved him.

"It was from a former scientist in North Korea's nuclear program," Richard said, his tone filled with meaning. And it did not fly by Clark at all. His eyebrows shot up, asking Richard to go on. "This guy defected to the United States a few months ago, but he's still got contacts back home. Name's Seung Dae."

"Did you run a background check?" Clark asked.

Richard nodded and handed Clark a folder from his desk. "From what little we do know about the nuke project, it appears he was an assistant to the head of the program."

Clark flipped through the papers quickly, appearing to scan the pages but really reading all of it quickly. "And he… wants to talk to you?"

"He wants to talk to both of us," Richard corrected. "He told me he's been wanting to contact the press for a while, but the time hadn't seemed right. He read your article Monday on Jong Il's threat of a missile launch and said he wanted you to help write this one up."

Clark's eyes lit up in surprise. If this came together, it could be a really important story. "Gosh," he stuttered. "I don't know what to say. I'm honored."

"Hey, I've read your stuff, you deserve it," Richard said. "Now, he wants to meet both of us at the docks tonight at 9. Hope you're free."

Technically, Clark always had something he could be doing. But this was potentially as worthy of his time as clearing rubble from the earthquake. "Definitely," he replied, enthused.

"Good," Richard said. "How about I swing by your apartment and pick you up around 8?"

"That sounds good," Clark replied. He didn't even own a car, considering when he was on his own, he didn't exactly need one.

"Great." Richard smiled. "You know, Clark, this could be a big night for both of us."


	4. Chapter 3

NOTE: Sorry this took a while to get up. I'm in a new apartment and the repairman hasn't fixed our phone or internet yet. Normally it won't take this long between updates, I promise! Thanks for sticking with the story.

* * *

The steel beam creaked and groaned under the pressure of being bent in two. Superman gave it one last strong pull, finishing the job of folding it up. Grabbing onto it with one hand, he lifted into the air. He floated over and deposited the now-compact beam onto the flatbed of a large truck, on top of about a dozen others.

"Hey, thanks," the construction worker overseeing the building's clean-up project said. He tipped his hardhat back and looked up in the sky towards the hero. "But you keep this up, Supes, and you'll put us out of our jobs."

Superman smiled. "Don't worry, gentleman. I'm not looking for a career change."

The leader responded, "I don't think I envy your job. You keep it. But feel free to help us out next time there's a major disaster or a big game we wanna go to in the middle of the week." His crew laughed.

Just then, Superman caught site of a clock on the bank at the end of the block. It read 7:50. _Speaking of jobs…_ he thought. Only 10 minutes until Richard was supposed to pick him up for their interview. "Keep up the good work," he said to the workers, not even waiting for a response before zooming up into the sky and turning back towards his apartment.

Within a few minutes, he had flown back through the ever-open window of his apartment and into his room. He was just in time to hear someone knocking on his door. _Of course he'd be early_, he thought. "Ah, just a minute!" he called in a higher-pitched voice as he dashed towards his closet.

In a whirl, he grabbed a brown suit and threw it on over his less-conventional work clothes. Clark dashed to the door, instinctively grabbing his glasses off the kitchen counter and slipping them on before opening the door.

"Hey," Richard said, "you ready?"

"Ah, yeah, yeah. Just let me grab my notes and my recorder," Clark said. Richard looked back at him, with an expectant expression on his face. Clark paused a moment before opening the door a little wider. "Oh, come on in," he added, realizing it would be rude to shut the door in Richard's face.

"Thanks," Richard said, stepping inside. As Clark headed for his desk, Richard looked around the room. "Nice place. It's… quaint."

Clark assumed by his tone that what Richard really meant was "boring". As he rummaged through his desk drawer for his notebook and tape recorder, Clark replied, "I haven't really had much time to do anything with it. I've only been moved in about a week. I know it's not fancy but for what I can afford-" He stopped as he turned around to see Richard staring at a picture on the wall. It was of him and Lois.

Clark closed his eyes. He knew working with Richard was a bad idea. Maybe he just shouldn't say anything. _Sure, pretend you don't have a picture of you and his fiancée on your otherwise barren wall,_ Clark thought, wanting to kick himself.

Slowly, he walked over to stand beside Richard, trying to act casual. "Oh, these are some photos Jimmy Olsen took a long time ago. He gave me this whole box, and I've just started putting them up," Clark explained.

Richard looked down at the box of photos, back to the picture of Clark and Lois, then over at his coworker. He looked like he wanted to say something important, but much to Clark's relief, settled on, "We'd better get going. Don't want to miss our interview."

-----

The docks looked particularly empty this evening as Richard drove slowly between the warehouses. "Slow fishing day, huh?" Richard mused as he slowed the car to a stop and parked it.

"Is this it?" Clark asked.

"Sure is," Richard said, glancing up at the number on the rusty building. They both got out of the car.

"Seems like sort of a strange place for an interview," Clark commented. He had an eerie feeling about this place.

Richard grinned. "Not if you're an ex-member of the North Korean nuclear program hiding out in the US," he said.

"I guess…" Clark still thought it a little odd. It took him a moment to realize what it was that was bothering him- it was quiet. Too quiet. He listened and heard voices, cars, heartbeats from all around the city, but none right here. There was no one at the docks. A quick scan with his x-ray vision through the building they were supposedly meeting at confirmed that suspicion. "I don't think there's anyone here."

Richard gave him a funny look. "What makes you think that, Clark? We haven't even gone inside yet."

"Uh, I don't know," Clark said, pushing up his glasses. "Just… seems quiet."

Richard laughed softly. "Of course it's quiet, Clark. I wouldn't expect the guy to be striking up the band for our entrance. Come on." He began heading towards the door, and Clark followed.

Suddenly, an extremely loud noise caught Clark's attention. At least, it sounded loud to him, though he realized by Richard's lack of reaction that it must be at least a couple miles away. And it sounded like an explosion. A very large explosion. Accompanied by many terrified screams.

"Um, maybe he went to a different warehouse," Clark said, his brain spinning to come up with an excuse to get out of there.

"No, this is definitely the one," Richard said, stepping inside and glancing around at the empty space, baffled.

"Well, maybe I should go check, just in case," Clark suggested. "And you could stay here and wait in case Seung Dae shows up."

Richard shrugged. "All right, I guess, but hurry back."

"Oh, I will," Clark said, hastily rushing out the door and between two warehouses. A moment later, a blue blur streaked into the sky over Metropolis.

Once he was up high enough, he was able to tell the direction the sound was coming from. With his distance vision, he could see what looked like an orphanage on fire. As fast as he could, Superman wove his way through the city buildings until he got to the orphanage.

A number of children and supervisors were huddled outside, across the street from the burning building, but he could hear some still inside. Instinctively, Superman went to work on the flames with his cold breath. It took a while to extinguish them. Longer than he would have liked, but he hoped it had been enough. Several who had been trapped inside began to run out of the building exuberantly. But it wasn't over yet.

His x-ray vision revealed three children trapped on a broken staircase, with a heavy beam lying on top of one of them. Like a rocket, Superman shot through a window onto their level. A boy who looked to be about 10 stared at him, jaw slack. "Superman?" he asked, stunned. "Is that really you?"

"Don't worry," Superman replied calmly. "You're going to be ok."

The boy looked at his friend, who had an equally surprised expression on his face, but appeared to have been momentarily stricken mute. The two kids smiled back at their hero as he hoisted the heavy beam off their unconscious friend, a small girl with dirty blonde hair.

Superman scanned her skeletal structure and saw that she had some broken ribs. Her breathing sounded shallow- she could have punctured a lung, he wasn't sure. He heaved the beam away from the children, down to the next level where there were no more people. Then he alighted on the stair landing and gently scooped the girl up into his arms.

"You friend needs a doctor," he told the boys gently. "Come here." The boys, still smiling despite the dire situation, did as they were told and went to stand beside Superman. "Now, both of you hang on tight."

"You- you mean you're going to…?" the first boy stuttered, his eyes widening.

"Just grab my arms and don't let go," Superman replied. The boys eagerly did as he said, exchanging grins as wide as jack-o-lanterns. Once he was sure they had good grips, Superman slowly lifted into the air, and floated out the second-story window. A few seconds later, the ride was over and they had touched down on the street.

The boys let go and stared way up at him. "Thanks," the first managed. The second nodded, still dumb from the shock. Superman nodded in return, smiling. At their age, he might have been just as awestruck by someone who could fly. He was just glad they were safe.

As nice as the moment was, there was a more pressing matter to attend to. Superman swiftly strode over to an ambulance that was just arriving on the scene, and handed the unconscious girl over to the paramedics. "She has some cracked ribs and might need a chest tube," he explained. "Get her to the hospital immediately."

"Yes, sir," the paramedic said, following the order as though it were given by an actual superior of his. He loaded the girl onto the gurney in back of the rig and quickly shut the doors.

Satisfied that the paramedics and fire squadrons on the way could take care of the rest of the minor injuries, Superman slowly lifted off and began heading back to the sky. The kids waved and he smiled back in return.

It was then that he heard something else, something that caught him off guard. The slow, mocking sound of clapping. His brow furrowed, and he turned his head towards the sound. There on a nearby rooftop stood Lex Luthor.

Superman's fists clenched, and so did his jaw. He stared Luthor down.

"Well done," Lex said. "Really, you did that much faster than I'd anticipated."

Superman stared back at his nemesis. He wasn't surprised that Lex had set the explosives. He was certainly capable of much worse. But since he had and was still sticking around, Superman figured it was best not to act too rashly.

"What, no questions? No 'how dare you, Luthor'? I'm disappointed," Lex said.

"I'm not here to chat," Superman replied coldly. "Whatever plan you have, it's going to fail." Without another word, he darted forward towards the rooftop and Lex. But when he neared the criminal mastermind, he suddenly slowed and began to feel dizzy. He set down on the rooftop and took a few steps backwards.

Lex gave a small smile and shook his head. "Really, Superman, you should know better." He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a foreboding green shard the size of a chess piece. "You didn't think I'd forget to keep a memento from our last visit, did you?"

Staggering backwards quickly, Superman could feel the effects of the Kryptonite lessening. It was certainly enough to deter him from getting closer to Lex, but standing all the way across the roof, over 200 feet away, he felt relatively safe. He just needed to stay on his guard and think. He looked around, past Lex, and spotted the door to the roof. A focused dose of heat vision melted the lock. He looked back to the criminal. "I may not be able to get near you, but the police certainly will." Calmly, he turned to take off and find the nearest police station. Then Lex spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Clark."

Superman thought his heart might stop. The air rushed out of his lungs as though he'd been punched in the gut, hard. He couldn't have heard that right. Luthor couldn't have just said what he thought he had. He felt sick, but this had nothing to do with the Kryptonite. He didn't know how to react. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Putting on what he hoped was a stoic expression, Superman slowly turned and gave Lex a hard stare. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Now's no time to be coy about it, Mr. Kent," Lex said, a grin of victory spreading across his face.

That's when Clark realized that Lex knew. Not just suspected, but knew. His face fell. There was no point in hiding it now. But he had absolutely no idea what to say in response to that. _My God, if he knows, who else has he told?_Clark wondered. His mind was racing, and he found himself utterly speechless.

Lex seemed to be reveling in the usually composed hero's state of shock. "Every second you spend here is another second your friend comes closer to death," he said plainly. "And if you go to the cops about me, I guarantee it will be too late."

His friend? Oh no… Lois. If Lex had gotten to her… "You sick bastard," Clark replied, wanting to charge forward and grab the man by the throat, but knowing he couldn't. "What have you done?"

"Me?" Lex asked innocently. "I'm not the one standing on a rooftop while my friend faces his death." His satisfied smile twisted into a wicked grin. "Leaving someone all alone at the deserted docks is a very bad idea, Clark," he said quietly. "Who knows who might be creeping around there."

Clark's eyes went wide. He stared at Luthor, and knew that the man wasn't bluffing. He really had sent someone to kill Richard.

Without another second's hesitation, Superman sped off away from the rooftop, barreling towards the docks at full speed. He just prayed he could get there in time.


	5. Chapter 4

Long before he'd arrived at the warehouse, Superman could hear Richard's low, pained groaning and his thready heartrate. He sped up, breaking the sound barrier with a thundering boom as he zoomed down towards the docks. It seemed like an impossibly long time before he reached the building where he'd left Richard. _Please don't let him die,_ was the only thought that ran through his head, over and over.

Finally, Superman touched down just outside the warehouse and ran inside. Richard lay in the middle of the floor, facing the doorway. Instantly, Superman noticed the pool of deep red blood forming around him. It smeared his face and hands as he tried to push himself up off the floor.

Richard stopped and stared for a moment at the blue-suited figure that had appeared before him. His eyebrows went up slowly in surprise and relief. "S-Super…" he stammered, giving up his attempt to prop himself up and instead sinking to the floor.

Eyes filled with concern, Superman rushed forward to his colleague's side. "It's all right, Richard. You're going to be fine." A quick glance with his x-ray vision showed the bullets in Richard's side had ripped through his ribs, lungs, and maybe some major vessels. Superman swallowed, trying not to let the concern show on his face. "I'm taking you to a hospital." Usually, he was able to remain calm in situations like this, but urgency was slowly creeping into his voice as he scooped Richard off the floor.

Superman was just about to take off when Richard tugged on his cape weakly with one bloodied hand. "Superman," the man rasped out, swallowing with great difficulty. "Tell… Lois…."

"Whatever it is, you tell her yourself," Superman insisted. He grabbed hold of Richard tightly and shot off into the sky.

Mere seconds later, he touched down in the ambulance bay of Metropolis General. It was practically a running landing, as he rushed forward into the emergency room instantly. "This man needs a doctor!" he insisted in an uncharacteristically strained tone.

A balding man in a white lab coat came trotting around the corner. "What seems to be the-" he stopped when he saw the sight before him. "Superman?" he asked, stunned. "What happened?"

"He's been shot," Superman replied. "Several times, I think."

The doctor snapped to a nurse, who quickly rolled a gurney over. Superman set Richard down on the gurney, only then noticing that the man had passed out. "Multiple GSW to the right upper quadrant," the doctor told his coworkers as they began wheeling him quickly towards the trauma room. Superman strode behind him them, hoping he could offer some help. "Was he conscious in the field?" the doctor asked him.

Superman nodded. "He had a weak pulse, but he was awake and talking to me."

An RN, who had been busy attaching leads to Richard's chest, plugged them into the monitor. A loud, quick beeping instantly filled the hectic room. "He's tachy at 180," the nurse reported.

"Push the lidocaine," the doctor instructed. He seemed so completely engrossed in what was going on, but Superman for his part felt oddly disconnected. All he could do for a few minutes was stare in shock as the doctors worked furiously on Richard.

A gentle, hesitant tapping on his arm broke Superman out of his trance. He looked down to see a petite, timid nurse looking up at him. "I'm sorry," she seemed unsure of what to call him. "…Sir. But technically you shouldn't be in here. And it might be best to let the doctors have some room."

"Of course," he replied, then nodded, bringing himself back into the moment. He wasn't going to do any good just standing there anyhow. He had to find Lois and Jason. They were the ones who needed to be here right now.

The heart monitor suddenly switched rhythms and made a new beeping noise. "Oh God," the RN said. "He's bradying down." When she grabbed the defibrillator cart, Superman realized he needed to get to Lois _immediately_.

"Do everything you can," Superman told the young nurse standing beside him before disappearing in a blur.

----

_At last, some peace and quiet_, Lois thought as she sank onto her leather couch. After what she thought was an excessively long bedtime story, Jason had finally fallen asleep. Alone for once, she had a very rare opportunity to just sit by herself and read a book. As she grabbed her paperback John Grisham novel and began turning to where she'd left off, a small smile played across her face. She suddenly had an image of Richard and Clark together working on their story right now. Lois was willing to bet Richard would find that experience interesting.

Lois was just adjusting her reading glasses when a loud, forceful knocking on the door caused her to jump. _God, you'd think they were trying to break down the door_, she thought. She had a very strong desire not to answer that. Who came around at almost ten o'clock anyway? If it was something urgent, why not just call?

Still, the knocking persisted. Lois sighed. She guessed the only way to get her silence back was to answer whoever was rude enough to be knocking on her door right now. Setting her book down on the couch, she strode over to the door, unlocked the deadbolt, and swung it open.

"What is it?" she demanded before she'd even seen who it was.

When she did see who it was, her breath caught in her throat. The way it always did when he showed up. At first, all she could muster was surprise. "What are you doing here?" But then she noticed what looked like blood smearing the front of his suit. "Are you hurt?" she asked, panicking a little. If he was, there was nothing she could do for him.

But he shook his head. And she realized he was wearing an uncharacteristically tight expression. "It's Richard," he said. She stared at him, wide-eyed. "He's been shot."

Lois felt as if the room were suddenly tilting. She put one hand against the door to support herself. "What happened? Where is he? How is he?" her reporter's instinct fired the questions off automatically, but she wasn't really able to form a coherent thought.

"I found him at the docks and took him to the hospital," Superman explained. "I'm not sure what happened." He must have seen how dazed she was, because he reached out and put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Lois," he said, somehow able to muster that calm, commanding voice even under the current circumstances. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "I need to take you there right now. Where's Jason?"

"I…I just put him to sleep," Lois managed. "Do I need to get him?"

"I will. Stay here," he replied, taking a second to make sure she wasn't going to pass out before heading up to Jason's room.

A thousand images were flashing through Lois's brain. Pictures, memories, things that had never even happened but she'd hoped they would. The life she'd been building with Richard, which had been thrown into a maelstrom in the last month. But he'd stayed by her, now just as he had all those years, with Jason too. Suddenly, she realized the last thing in the world she wanted was to lose all of that.

"Mommy," Jason's sleepy but concerned voice called to her. She looked up to see Jason slowly making his way down the stairs. "Superman said Daddy's hurt."

Lois could not hide her pained expression, not even from Jason. At a loss for words, she looked up to see Superman standing behind him in the shadows, his face hidden. She couldn't see him, but she could only imagine what this situation must be like for him. But he must have seen her, because he quickly answered. "He is, Jason. So I'm going to take you and your mom to the hospital to see him right away."

"Oh," Lois began. "We can drive or take a cab…"

Stepping out of the shadows, Superman spoke tersely. "There isn't time."

Lois felt the icy sting of dread running down her spine. He was clearly trying not to panic her, but she could tell this was even getting to him. And if it was getting to him, it must be bad. She nodded, mouth slightly agape, but no words coming out.

Lois was hardly even aware of the quick journey to the hospital. Superman swept Jason and her along, the sort of ride that would normally be exhilarating, but now just added to her disorientation.

The harsh flashes of cameras ripped into her somnambulant state like a knife through steak. Suddenly, she realized they were at the hospital, with the press mobbing the ambulance bay. The overwhelming sense of déjà vu she got took her breath away in the worst possible manner. Glancing up at the man who held her and Jason, she couldn't help but remember him lying unresponsive in a hospital bed. And she recalled Richard, who had driven her to the hospital, who had been the one to urge her to go in the first place…

"Out of the way," Superman said, staring down a reporter who was waving a microphone in their faces. The sleek-haired man shrank aside in the Man of Steel's presence. Superman ushered Lois and Jason into the Emergency Room. The security inside was doing a good job keeping the reporters out, which helped Lois relax a little.

A nurse approached them. "May I help you?" she asked, speaking to Lois, but unable to keep her eyes from darting to Superman.

"We're looking for Richard White," Lois said, adding. "My fiancé."

Lois thought she saw the woman's plump face tighten before she answered, "Of course. The man Superman brought in. This way." She began leading them down the seemingly endless hallway to the trauma room. Lois's heart was practically beating out of her chest. "And what is your name, miss?" the nurse asked.

"Lois Lane."

"Oh!" the nurse exclaimed in recognition. Then she glanced at Superman. "Oh," she said, as if this whole scene had just clicked in her mind. Lois tried to ignore the slight insinuation in the woman's tone. "And this boy is your son?" the nurse asked.

"Yes," Lois said, hesitating momentarily before adding, "and Richard's." She saw Superman look away and felt bad. But there wasn't much else she could have said to explain the situation.

"Well, I should tell you, Ms. Lane," the nurse replied somberly, "I don't think your son should go in there right now." That made Lois even more anxious and worried about what she would see when she herself went in.

"But I want to see Daddy," Jason protested.

"Sweetie," Lois said, turning and reaching up to where Jason was still perched in Superman's arms. She stroked her son's hair soothingly. "The doctors need some space to work on Daddy right now. I know you want to see him, but he's very sick." Her voice began faltering, and she had to stop. The nurse gently set a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll stay with him," Superman said quietly.

Lois looked at him and saw an expressive that was at once both supportive and pained. It made her heart want to shatter like glass. But she had to keep it together. Part of her thought his being there was only going to complicate things, but truth be told, she was glad to have someone so entirely solid there to support her and look after Jason. "Thank you," she whispered, before turning towards the trauma room. She braced herself, drawing a deep breath as the nurse led her through the door.

----

As Lois entered the trauma room, Superman turned away and looked for a chair to set Jason in. He didn't want the boy to have to see anything in the trauma room by accident, so he chose one off to the side in the hallway.

"Why don't we sit over here," he said, heading that way. He set the boy down in the chair and took a seat beside him. Jason was uncharacteristically quiet and downcast. While giving someone space in a time like this was generally a good idea, Superman figured it was different with a child.

"Hey, Jason," he said, getting the boy's attention. "It's ok to feel sad or worried."

Jason nodded, then noticed the blood on Superman's suit. "Did you get hurt again?" he asked.

Superman swallowed, then forced a smile. "No, Jason, I'm fine."

That seemed to relieve the boy somewhat. "Good. I didn't like it when you were hurt," he said.

Hearing that, just that small sentiment, touched Superman immensely. "I knew you were there to see me," he said. And he had. In his vague state between waking and sleeping, he had heard Jason in the room with Lois. Just as he had heard Lois whisper in his ear that Jason was his son. He had to swallow hard to keep the lump in his throat down before speaking again. "Just like your dad knows you're here to see him."

Jason's lip was quivering, though he tried not to show it, tried to put on a brave face for his hero. "Is my dad going to get better like you did?"

Superman took a moment to focus in on the sounds from the other room….

"_He's losing blood faster than we can squeeze it in!"_

"_Push another round of epi!" _

"_It's been 35 minutes. He's still flatlining…"_

"_Shock him! Do something, please!"_

"_I'm sorry, Ms. Lane. Shocking him when his heart isn't beating won't help. You need to start preparing yourself…"_

He blocked out the rest. He'd heard enough. Staring down at Jason, whose face was still full of expectation, hoping Richard would get better, Superman felt a deep sense of sorrow. For his part, he knew Richard was a good man. And as much as it pained him to admit it, to Jason, Richard was his father. He was the one who had raised him and been there for him. Superman remembered what it was like when his father died. Jonathan Kent had been a very good man and a great father. And he knew Richard had been the same.

Reaching out a hand and placing it on Jason's shoulder, Superman turned the boy towards him and stared him straight in the eye. "Jason," he began slowly, evenly. "Sometimes people get hurt so bad that nothing can make them better. Your dad was hurt like that."

The boy's brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. "You got better," he insisted.

"I know, Jason, but that was different. The sun helped my body heal. But your dad…" he didn't know how to say this. He didn't want to be the one to say this, but in an odd way, he felt he should be. "I just heard what the doctors and your mom were talking about in the other room." He paused, then said softly, "Jason, your dad is dying."

Tears that had already been welling up in the boy's eyes began to trickle down his cheeks. "No." He shook his head. "He's gonna get better."

"Honey." Lois's voice got both their attentions. Superman looked up to see her standing outside the trauma room, looking like she'd been crying for the last 10 minutes. She looked at Jason, her expression a paradox of love and sorrow. "Jason," she stepped closer to him and crouched down in front of him.

Superman had never seen her so distraught. She looked gaunt and exhausted, as if those 10 minutes had aged her 10 years. He wanted to help, to say something, to save someone, but he knew it was too late. He knew what she had to say, and he felt utterly helpless.

Finally, Lois worked up the courage to say the words. "Daddy was hurt very badly," she began. "He was shot by a bad man. The doctors did their very best, but they couldn't make it better." Her next breath was shaky, laced with tears flowing freely. She barely croaked out the words, "Daddy's died, Jason."

The boy's soft tears burst into a fountain of sobs. "No, no, no," he said, shaking his head vigorously. Lois leaned in and wrapped her arms around her son. He buried his face in her shirt. She held him tight and sobbed along with him.

"I know, honey, I know," she choked out through her tears, stroking Jason's hair. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

Superman felt a profound sense of sadness that he hadn't been prepared for. He wasn't sure if it was Richard's death or the sight of Lois and Jason in agony that caused it. A combination of the two, he thought. All he knew was that he felt extremely sad and regretful. He had a terrible feeling this was his fault.

Slowly, he stood up. He realized that he didn't belong here. He felt like he was intruding on an intensely private moment in this family's life, one which he had no business sharing in. There was nothing her could offer as consolation. An 'I'm sorry' would be like a slap in the face. It was his fault in the first place; leaving Richard alone like that and falling for Luthor's trap was incredibly stupid. He'd given Luthor a chance to kill the only father Jason had ever known.

Superman started to reach out a hand to lay on Lois's shoulder, but stopped just short of touching her. The gesture felt hollow. _You haven't earned the right to comfort her_, he thought. _You'd just be taking advantage of her._ And he wasn't going to do that.

Swallowing hard and fighting back his own sorrow, Superman turned away from Lois and Jason. He would leave quietly, let them grieve together without complicating things further. Though he wanted nothing more than to stay, he felt leaving them alone was the right thing to do.

By the time Lois turned to tell him to wait, he was already gone.


	6. Chapter 5,  part 1

NOTE: I finally have internet in my apartment! So that's definitely good. I'm starting a busy film school semester, though, so forgive me if I'm a bit slow here. Your continued support is much appreciated. We're about to get to the real meat of the story, so hopefully it's interesting enough to keep your attention.

* * *

Flowers. Generally speaking, they were fine. But the mounds and towers of flower arrangements filling the little church were really starting to put Lois on edge. She was fairly certain there were more vases than people at this visitation. She appreciated the gesture, really. But she didn't get it. It seemed like giving something that would shrivel up and die in a few days to a grieving woman was unintentionally cruel. "I knew I should have asked not to receive flowers," she muttered.

A large hand settled on her shoulder. "Now, Lo," Sam Lane admonished gently, "you know everyone's just trying to be sympathetic."

"I appreciate that, Dad, really. But if I have to hear the phrase 'sorry for your loss' accompanied by a vase of carnations one more time, I think I'm going to lose it." She exhaled shakily. Her father looked at her with concern, then pulled her into a hug. For a moment, Lois closed her eyes and hugged him back. But then she pulled away, giving him a small smile. "I'm fine. I'm not going to break, Dad. I just-"

"Lois," a voice behind her said. She turned around to see Gil holding a vase of carnations. He wore an expression she guessed was trying to be solemn, but really he just seemed bored. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, as if by wrote. Lois forced a smile. "Thank you, Gil," she managed. Her coworker nodded and gave her an expression that practically screamed _can I go now?_. "Excuse me," she said, sparing him the trouble of pretending he had any idea how she was feeling right now. Lois strode towards the side exit, praying she could escape without anyone else bombarding her.

Luckily, she made it. She stepped outside onto the back steps, closed the door behind her, and reached into her purse for a cigarette in one quick motion. Just flicking on her lighter was enough to calm her down a little, and she could practically feel the nicotine easing her nerves even before the cigarette was lit. As soon as it was, she drew a deep breath, the hot smoke filling her lungs.

But it didn't work. No reprieve, no forgetting what was going on inside, and certainly no kind of buzz. Lois stared at the cigarette, watching it burn down slowly for a moment. Richard always hated these things. He had been relentless about trying to get her to quit, and she hadn't had one in a couple weeks, but surely this of all things warranted a good smoke. And yet, it felt wrong.

Resigned, Lois flicked the cigarette over the side of the staircase. "Ah!" a startled voice below exclaimed.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Lois blurted out, heading down the stone steps, mortified that she was going to see some elderly church-goer visiting a grave. Instead, she was surprised to find a younger man with glasses dressed in black sitting on a bench. She had to look twice before realizing who it was. "Clark," she said, a little puzzled. She wasn't used to seeing him in black. Tweed was his usual attire. "I don't think I saw you inside."

He stood up, almost stepping back away from her. "Lois. I thought… shouldn't you be inside?"

Her brow furrowed. What, was he hiding from her? _Maybe he just doesn't like funerals_, she thought. But then why had he gotten dressed in black and shown up? Everyone had been either avoiding her or turning very somber around her in the last three days. Superman had been completely MIA, which she was actually a little grateful for. Knowing him, he probably didn't want to complicate this particular moment in her life any more than it already was.

Clark, for his part, had spoken to the police, but hadn't said a word to her any of the times she'd been in at the Planet. Lois had a couple guesses as to why, but wasn't sure. She shrugged. "I needed a little air. It was getting to be a bit much in there."

"Oh," he said quietly, giving her a sympathetic look.

She was beginning to hate those looks. She didn't need anyone else to tell her how terrible she felt about losing Richard. Needing to keep that subject from actually coming up, she asked, "Where are your flowers?"

Clark looked puzzled for a moment, then his expression quickly became one of embarrassment. "I… I didn't bring any," he stammered. "Sorry, I probably should ha-"

"No," she interrupted, a slight smile actually crossing her face. The fact that he had accidentally done the right thing was very…Clark. "It's a relief," she continued, "I don't think I'm ever going to want to see another flower after today." She wondered if flowers would always remind her of Richard, bleeding to death in that trauma room. A shudder ran up her spine and she shivered visibly.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked. His expression grew sheepish as he realized what he'd asked. "That's a stupid question," he muttered. Lois agreed, but didn't say anything. Clark's mouth was open, as if he was on the brink of saying something, so she waited. "Lois, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," he began, "not sorry, as in sorry for your loss. I mean, I am that too. But I-" he took a deep breath, looking frustrated with himself for babbling on. Finally, he said, "I wanted to apologize."

That surprised her. "Apologize for what, Clark?"

Before he could answer, the door from the church swung open, clanging against the wall loudly enough to make Clark jump. Lois and Clark looked up to see a petite gray-haired woman standing at the top of the stairs. "Mrs. White," Lois said, partly to let Clark know who it was.

"Lois," Theresa White said, "We all wondered where you had gone." She stepped down to where they stood. Eyeing Clark, she asked, "Who's this?"

Lois felt a little more tact would have been nice, but wasn't about to criticize the woman right now. She's never particularly gotten along with Richard's mother, feeling her to be a little suffocating, but they were united by their shared grief. "Clark Kent," Lois answered, since Clark had just been standing there, mute.

"Oh, Mr. Kent," Theresa said, extending a hand in greeting. When Clark reached out to shake hands, she covered his with her free hand. Hanging on, she continued, "I'm so glad I have the chance to meet you. The police have told us you were with Richard just before…before the accident."

Lois had a bad feeling about where this was going. Clark looked slightly panicked, but remained his genial self. "Ah, yes," he replied, not even attempting to reclaim his hand. "We were there for an interview. I had gone to check some of the other buildings-"

"So I heard," Theresa said. She squeezed Clark's hand. "I was just hoping maybe there was something you forgot to tell the police. Something you saw." Her eyebrows lifted desperately, "Something Richard said, maybe."

Lois wasn't going to let poor Clark suffer on account of Theresa's grief. The poor woman had been doing all she could to keep herself together. Everyone wanted Richard's killer brought to justice, but no one seemed to need it as much as his mother. Lois put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Mrs. White," she said quietly. "You know what the police report said. And Superman didn't see anyone there, either."

Theresa looked at Lois, then back up at Clark, who seemed utterly frozen in place. Slowly, she let go of his hand and looked down. "I know," she said, tears beginning to flood her eyes. "I just keep hoping somehow we can bring him back in some way…" she was hardly able to speak by the end of her sentence, and began sobbing.

Lois put an arm around Theresa and began leading her back towards the stairs. "Let's go inside and find Jim," she said. Though Lois might have been in tears herself if she'd stopped to let everything sink in, she found it much more comforting to be the strong one and focus on everyone else except Richard.

Lois glanced back at Clark, who looked utterly helpless. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, ostensibly to Theresa, but he was looking right at Lois. "I wish I had…I should have…" he trailed off. And then Lois realized what he had wanted to apologize for. Lois gave him a look that she hoped conveyed that there was nothing he could have done. But it didn't change the guilty expression in his eyes.


	7. Chapter 5, part 2

NOTE: Hey guys, it's great to see the stats and know there are so many people reading, but it kind of sucks to only have 2 or 3 people ever saying anything about what they thought. I'm really busy and it's kind of hard to have the motivation to keep writing when you're not even sure what people think of the story. So please consider taking a minute to review. It makes my job much more rewarding. Thanks! Now I hope you're buckled in because this is probably going a completely different direction than what you anticipated.

* * *

The Planet Bullpen was unusually, almost eerily quiet when Clark arrived. He strode between the desks with purpose, heading for the third window office on the left. As he walked, he loosened his tie to alleviate the feeling that he was suffocating. It didn't help. Getting away from Richard's visitation hadn't helped much, either. Clark was realizing that it would take more than running away to lift the heavy pressure he felt on his chest, his shoulders, his head every time that Richard's death was brought up. Staying away from Lois hadn't helped him, either, though he hoped it had helped her. The last thing she needed was to feel more confused about her life right now. But what Clark needed was to do something, to take action, to in some small way make up for what he had failed to do when it really mattered.

Clark stopped in front of the office door. The label 'Richard White' stared him in the face, and he quickly looked down to the doorknob instead. Glancing around to make sure none of the morose staff members were watching, Clark opened the door and quickly slipped inside.

The room was cloaked in a gray tone from the overcast sky filtering through the blinds. It gave everything an extra feeling of eeriness. Clark didn't dare turn the light on for fear that it might draw more attention. Luckily, the blinds over the window to the office were already drawn, providing him with some cover.

Quietly, Clark moved behind Richard's desk and opened the top drawer. He desperately hoped there might be some information on this Seung Dae. Clark knew Luthor was involved in this, but obviously he hadn't pulled the trigger himself. This interview had clearly been a setup. And if he was going to find Luthor, he had to follow the trail.

Unfortunately, a super-speed scan of all the documents in Richard's desk came up nil. Reluctantly, Clark switched on Richard's computer and waited for it to load. He was beginning to feel this was all very intrusive. But he had little choice. This couldn't be trusted to the cops, for a whole slew of reasons.

When the login screen appeared with the name "Richard White", Clark felt even worse. Still, there was no other way to get this information. And this seemed like the best route to bringing his killer to justice. Clark's hands hovered over the keyboard a moment before typing "Lois" and hitting enter. That was the wrong password. Clark bit his lip, thinking. Then he typed, "Jason" and hit enter. Richard's desktop immediately popped up.

Now Clark began typing furiously, clicking on files, scavenging through Richard's notes and logs to try to find everything he had on this Seung Dae. So engrossed was he in the pursuit that Clark failed to pay much attention to the sounds he could hear from outside the office. When the door opened and the lights flicked on, Clark snapped up, backing away from the computer.

But Lois had seen him on Richard's computer. And she could probably tell the items on his desk were in disarray, since Clark hadn't taken the time to replace them yet. He got a horrible sinking feeling in his gut as Lois just stood there, staring him down in disbelief. "Lois!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd still be at the church." As soon as the words left his mouth, Clark realized how they sounded.

Lois stepped inside, leaving the door open, and striding angrily towards Clark. "Oh, so you figured this was the perfect time then to go snooping through Richard's desk?"

"I-I was looking for something," Clark replied, scrambling to think of a way to explain this to Lois. He didn't want to tell anyone about the connection Luthor had to all of this. First of all, it would be hard to explain how he'd arrived at that conclusion seeing as Luthor hadn't been seen in almost a month. And secondly, since Luthor was behind this, Clark knew making that information public was only going to bring more backlash. This was clearly personal. Clark had to handle it on his own. "Lois," he said meekly, "please, don't be mad."

"Then tell me what on earth you're doing looking through Richard's private things," she snapped. "Don't you think you owe him a little more respect than that?"

That stung. Clark had thought it had been obvious from their exchange at the church earlier that he felt nothing but respect towards Richard and regret at not having done more to save him. Still, he could see why Lois was upset. "I was looking for some information on the person we were going to the docks to interview," Clark explained.

That seemed to calm Lois down a bit. But she was still clearly releasing a lot of pent up anger. "Don't you think the police can take care of that, Clark?"

"I can't tell them who it was. You know that," Clark said, regretfully. "I'm sorry, but I have to protect my source." He knew that Richard would have done the same. And that Lois had always been very stubborn about journalistic confidentiality. Still, Clark knew that didn't make his actions here any easier for Lois to swallow.

"I know that, Clark. And as much as I wish you could… I understand," she said, calmly for once. "But did you really have to break into Richard's office? Espionage doesn't become you."

"I'm sorry, Lois," he replied softly. "I can't really explain…"

"Well, you've got a lot more than this to explain, Mr. Kent," a voice from the doorway said. The middle-aged man had a commanding voice that filled the ghostly empty room. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a badge. "Detective Stone," he announced. Gesturing to a younger man behind him, he said, "this is Detective Cortez." Clark noticed that younger man had his hand on the holster of his gun.

"Officers," Clark said, "Can I help you?" It was just his luck that the police would happen to show up when he was in an inexplicable situation. As if Lois being there wasn't bad enough. But Clark had already talked to the police. So had Superman. In fact, they'd talked to anyone and everyone at the Planet over the last three days. Clark just hoped this little incident wouldn't prompt them to ask him more questions about Seung Dae that he couldn't answer.

"Hands in the air where I can see them," Stone ordered.

Clark was baffled. "Sorry?"

Stone pulled his gun from its holster in one swift move. Cortez followed suit. "I said hands in the air, Kent!"

"Wait, Officers, Clark was just looking for something. There's no need to overreact," Lois said.

"Step behind me, Miss Lane," Stone said evenly. When Lois just stared at him in confusion, Stone repeated the command with more force. She did as told. Clark slowly raised his hands up to shoulder level. "Hands behind your head. Stay where you are," Stone said before nodding to his partner. Cortez holstered his gun, stepped forward, and quickly patted Clark down.

"I don't understand," Clark said, trying to stay calm, but utterly confused by the whole situation. Were they really overreacting this much to a little office snooping? Something was wrong.

"He's clean," Cortez told his partner.

Stone nodded, though his eyes stayed fixed on Clark. "All right. Cuff him."

"What?" Lois and Clark exclaimed in virtual unity. Clark was suddenly feeling much more concerned about this whole situation. "C-can I please know what is going on?" he stammered.

"Sure you can," Stone said, holstering his gun and stepping forward as Cortez tightened the handcuffs on Clark's wrist. "Though we both know why we're here." He stared at Clark icily. "Clark Kent, you're under arrest for the murder of Richard White."


	8. Chapter 6

NOTE: Thanks for the reviews, guys, it really does make my day. Now, as to this chapter, I would have broken it up because it's long but there was no way to. So unfortunately, in order to make sure I don't run out of things to post on a consistent basis, I have to wait about a week before I post any more. Sorry about that, but I think it'll be better than suddenly having to wait several weeks if I rush through what I already have written too quickly.

* * *

The room's metallic décor was outmatched in coldness only by Stone's icy blue stare. His eyes had not left Clark's since they'd sat down in the interrogation room. Nor had he spoken. He just stared. 

Clark was practiced at staring down enemies, but this hardly applied to law enforcement. It only took about five minutes for him to break the silence. Clearing his throat, he said, "Officer, I'm not sure-"

"De_tective_." Stone broke in, still keeping those light blue eyes fixed on Clark.

"Sorry," Clark said. "Detective. I'm not sure what led you to suspect me of…" Clark couldn't even bring himself to finish that sentence. The idea was so absurd, and the thought too grim to give voice to. "Of something like this."

Stone leaned forward onto the table. The bright light hanging above glared off a large bald spot on the top of his head. "Why don't you tell me why I should think you didn't do it." He spread his hands apart. "Really, I'm waiting to hear it. Tell me where exactly you were when Richard White was murdered."

---

"Do you know what your fiancée was doing at the docks, Ms. Lane?" the 30-ish looking detective asked again, softly.

Lois searched for her voice, trying to get over her initial shock. She had remained motionless on the couch in the softly lit room of the police station since she'd been brought in. When she did speak, her eyes were turned away from detective Cortez, focused instead on an oscillating fan in the corner. "He was there for an interview."

"Along with Mr. Kent, correct?" Cortez asked, his voice smooth and gentle. "That's what his schedule indicated." He paused as Lois remained transfixed by the slow back and forth motion of the fan. The steady, unchanging rhythm. "Ms. Lane?"

"Yes," Lois replied, pulling her eyes away from the fan and looking at Cortez. "Richard said he and Clark were meeting a source there."

"Do you know who it was?"

Lois let out a soft chortle. "Detective, Richard wouldn't have been a junior editor at one of the world's best newspapers if he were leaking his sources."

Cortez seemed surprised. "Even to his fiancée?"

"To anyone."

---

"You know I can't tell you that," Clark replied, aghast that the detective would even ask.

"Because he doesn't exist." Stone insisted.

"Because it… it's a protected speech," Clark exclaimed. Stone had to know that. "Journalists don't reveal sources." It was ludicrous enough that he'd been dragged in here like this, but why was this detective asking him questions he knew Clark wouldn't answer? It occurred to him that there had to be some strategic reason.

"Hmm." Stone drummed his knuckles on the metal table top. "Well, did this mystery man say anything?"

Clark sighed, adjusting his glasses. Stone knew the answer to that. He was just trying to unnerve his interview subject. Clark was a good enough reporter to be able to spot tactics like this. It was the kind of route Lois usually took when interviewing someone, actually. Calmly, he replied, "As I told you when we spoke a few days ago, Detective, there was no one there when Richard and I arrived."

"Right, I've heard this one," Stone said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He pushed his chair back from the table. "You went to the other warehouses to look for someone. Of course, no one was there to corroborate this alibi. And White was gone by the time you got back."

"They said Superman took him to the hospital," Clark said, guardedly.

"Yeah. He saw a guy bleeding to death and tried to do something about it. Generally the considerate thing to do." Stone's eyes narrowed. "But you didn't show up at the hospital. Didn't call his house. In fact, no one heard from you until the next day."

After a moment of silent stare-down, Stone got up and strode purposefully towards the door.

---

"You didn't hear from Mr. Kent after Richard was taken to the hospital, did you?" Cortez asked.

Lois thought about it for a moment. "I guess not."

"Did you find it odd that he never tried to find out what had happened to Richard?"

Lois shrugged. "Honestly, it hadn't occurred to me," she said. In retrospect, she guessed she could see how someone might think that was odd behavior. But this was Clark Kent. If he had been behaving perfectly normally_then_ she might have taken notice.

Cortez paused, scooting his chair a little closer to Lois's couch. "I understand that it's probably hard for you to come to terms with this."

"It's just… it's _Clark_. He's the most mild-mannered guy I've ever met. Frankly, I find this all a little hard to believe," Lois said, her voice raising slightly. This seemed like a waste of time.

Nodding in supposed understanding, Cortez continued, "I assure you, Ms. Lane, we have good reasons for suspecting Mr. Kent. Very good reasons. For one thing, disappearing from the scene of the crime in the way he did is suspicious, don't you think?"

"Clark is always disappearing. Always running off after something he forgot. It's not that unusual for him." Lois could certainly see that this might seem suspicious to someone who didn't know Clark. "Frankly, if that's a big part of the 'very good reason' you have for arresting him, I'd say that's a pretty thin thread to hang your case on. Clark probably just lost track of time."

Cortez's brow furrowed. "Please, Ms. Lane, there's no need to get angry. I understand you're upset, but just hear me out. And maybe you can help me to understand some things better. Now, even if Mr. Kent was searching the other warehouses, where do you think he would have gone once he saw that Richard wasn't there?"

"Probably home," Lois replied, getting a little impatient with this line of questioning. If they wanted to know these things, why not just ask Clark? And if they had something to explain to her, why didn't they just say it? She was in no mood for some kind of cat and mouse game.

"Home," Cortez repeated. "And he wouldn't have noticed the blood on the floor of the warehouse where he'd left Mr. White?"

That, Lois had to admit, did seem a little odd. But again, it was quite possible that Clark just hadn't noticed or that he'd had to run off without telling Richard where he was going. "Clark isn't always the most observant person, Detective," she offered.

Cortez didn't seem convinced, but he nodded placatingly anyway. "All right, let's say that he didn't notice, didn't know where Richard was, and just went home." He paused for a moment. "Wearing what?"

---

When Stone came back from the doorway, he was holding a large garment bag. Clark didn't see what was in it until it was thrown onto the table in front of him, landing with a resounding [i_smack_[/i! "Several of your co-workers identified these as the clothes you were wearing the day Richard White was murdered. Is that so?" Clark felt his eyes widen as he stared at the bag. He quickly reigned in his reaction, but it was too late. "I'll take that as a yes," Stone said with a smirk.

The detective remained standing, slipping his hands into his pockets in a self-satisfied manner. "Now, normally this would be the part where the subject would be outraged, insisting to know where the cops got these. But you know perfectly well, don't you?"

Stone slowly began to circle around the table, around Clark, who sat stone-still. The detective stopped behind him, leaning over and speaking softly next to Clark's ear. "Just a hint, Clark," the man said, a sneer in his voice, "when you commit a murder, it's not a good idea to leave your clothes with the victim's blood on them at the scene."

Clark closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. How could he be so stupid? He'd forgotten to collect his street clothes from the alleyway. He was usually careful about cleaning up after himself, but in the wake of Richard's death, he must have forgotten. This was impossible to explain. On top of which, Luthor's men had obviously splattered Richard's blood on it. Clark might as well have helped them plant evidence.

His stomach sank. It had been worrisome enough just to know that Luthor had found out his true identity. But now Clark was staring to get the picture of just what that meant.

---

Lois stared at the pictures of a brown tweed suit in a clear evidence bag. The red stains across the sleeves were particularly gut-wrenching. She felt dumbstruck for the first time in the course of this interview. "I…" she cleared her throat. "I'm pretty sure those are Clark's, yes. This just doesn't make sense..." Lois shook her head, and turned her gaze away from the evidence photos.

There had to be a rational explanation for this. Maybe they weren't Clark's clothes after all. She couldn't really be sure. The detectives were just reaching. "So Clark was there. He probably knows more than he's telling you. But that doesn't mean he killed Richard," Lois said quietly.

Cortez nodded. "You're right. If there's one thing Detective Stone has taught me in my time as his partner, it's that a solid conviction always requires hard evidence." A beat. "Which, in this case, we also have." He pulled out another photo from his brown evidence envelope and gingerly handed it to Lois.

She stared at it for a moment as if it were a cobra, then reluctantly took it. Lois looked down to see she was holding a set of photos of the gun, the murder weapon.

---

"We found it when we searched your apartment yesterday," Stone said, now on the opposite side of the table from Clark. He reached down and nudged the gun towards Clark, who flinched at the sound of metal scraping on metal. It was a sound that had always been particularly painful to his sensitive ears. "Ballistics already matched the bullets to this specific weapon."

The color had nearly drained from Clark's face. He didn't know how Luthor had managed to plant the weapon in his apartment, but that actually spooked him much less than the thought of the police going through his belongings. Had they decided to do that today, for instance, they would have found his Superman suit, which he'd left off during the funeral. The thought sent a shudder down his spine. The saving grace was that since he wasn't wearing it now, it was one less thing to worry about.

Stone naturally interpreted Clark's nervousness as confirmation of his theory, and continued on, growing more confident. "I'm willing to bet those fingerprints will match yours once we run them, too." He leaned forward onto the table, looking down at Clark. "Or is that classified under another journalistic privilege, Mr. Kent?"

Swallowing hard, Clark tried to bring his racing thoughts in line. He looked back evenly at Stone. "I know how this looks. But I'm being set up."

Stone snorted softly. "Yeah? By who?"

Clark hesitated. If he told them about Lex and they followed the lead, Clark was sure he wouldn't like the way Lex would handle it. He kept hearing Luthor joyfully spitting out his real name, reveling in the power that knowledge brought him. No, there was no way Clark could tell them about Luthor's involvement. And Luthor had known that. So Clark bit his lip, saying nothing.

"That's what I figured," Stone said.

---

It was wrong. It had to be. Even though Lois was staring at the pictures, even though Cortez had explained how the ballistic tests worked, even though this weapon had been found in Clark's apartment, Lois's mind could not comprehend it. She tried to conjure up an image of Clark holding the gun, but couldn't. "No," she said quietly, then louder, "No, this can't be right."

Overwhelmed, Lois shoved the pictures back into the brown envelope Cortez had set on the table. She looked at the sympathetic detective evenly. "I know how the evidence looks, but I'm sorry. I just don't believe it." Her reporter's instinct was something she was very proud of. Her knack for sniffing out the truth was what had gotten her as far as she was. And this just didn't feel right.

"Ms. Lane, I know that this is all pretty shocking for you," Cortez said. "But doesn't the evidence at least make you wonder?"

Did it make her wonder? Of course it did. Her mind was racing, jumping through hoops already to try to come up with some logical explanation for this that didn't end with Clark firing two bullets into Richard's chest. "Detective, it's just that, if you knew Clark like I do, you'd understand how impossible this is. It's completely inconsistent with everything I know about him."

Cortez seemed to process that, chewing on it and formulating his response before carefully replying, "And just how well did you know Mr. Kent? Would you say you were close?"

"Close?" Lois stared him down. "What do you mean?"

---

"You weren't particularly close to Richard White, were you?" Stone asked, taking his seat again.

Clark adjusted his glasses again. Normally, he was conscious of the gesture, but this time it happened out of pure nervousness. "Well, we'd only known each other a month. He started working at the Planet after I left."

"Right, for your, ah, sabbatical. But you knew Lois Lane for several years before you left, correct?"

Clark faltered just a moment before replying. "Yes, we worked together." He had a bad feeling about where this was going. Being asked about his relationship to Lois only made everything infinitely more complicated, and completely impossible to explain to the police. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"You were partners," Stone added. It wasn't really a question, but Clark nodded. "I'm sure you were happy to see her again, after all that time away."

"Sure," Clark said, his voice cracking a little, "I mean, it was nice to see a familiar face again."

"Mmm," Stone hummed. "You'd been sending her post-cards from your trip."

"I sent them to several people. To my other co-worker, Jimmy Olsen…" Clark found his mouth drying up quickly.

Stone grinned. "I doubt you were quite as happy to see Jimmy as you were Lois, though, right? Come on, a beautiful, smart woman like that..."

Clark blinked a couple times. "Lois and I are just friends."

The Detective raised one eyebrow slightly. "According to a number of your fellow Daily Planet employees, that's not strictly true," Stone said as he scooted closer to the table. He smiled crookedly. "Come on, Kent. Don't tell me you really think your romantic infatuation with Ms. Lane escaped everyone's attention. Practically everyone we asked about you and Lois mentioned it. Said it was pretty obvious."

Clark tried hard not to cough, swallow, or do any of the other things he felt very much like doing right now. Normally, he was able to do a good job of hiding his feelings for Lois. At least, he thought he had been. But had everyone really noticed anyway? "I don't know exactly what you're suggesting, but you're wrong," Clark insisted.

"You're pretty quick to deny something you claim to know nothing about," Stone said. "It's a simple question, Clark- are you having an affair with Lois Lane?"

---

"An _affair_?!" Lois exclaimed. "With Clark Kent?" She didn't know whether she was more insulted or baffled by the fact that they'd arrived at that conclusion. It was bad enough that they were jumping to conclusions about Clark, but this… this was personal. And she resented the suggestion tremendously.

"We know he has feelings for you, and a couple of things we'd run across suggested that you and Mr. White might have been having some relationship problems." Cortez seemed to be growing reluctant in the face of Lois's outrage, his voice withering under her intense stare.

"First of all, that is none of your damn business," Lois spat out.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but under the circumstances-"

"I'm not finished!" Lois shouted. She took a second to collect herself a little, calming down before she continued. "Secondly, even if Richard and I might have been having a bit more trouble lately, it had absolutely nothing to do with Clark." Of course, she wasn't about to offer that it had to do with Superman. Like she needed anyone else speculating about that. "In fact, I talked to Richard just last week about how uncomfortable Clark's little crush was making me." They'd laughed it off. After all, it was harmless. Wasn't it?

"Forgive me, Ms. Lane. But you understand, I had to ask," Cortez apologized. "But frankly, given the fact that you say you weren't romantically involved with Mr. Kent, the letter we found in his apartment seems even more incriminating for him."

"Letter?" Lois asked, watching in curiosity as Cortez pulled yet another document from that ominous brown envelope of his. It was a photocopy of a hand-written letter. "Initial handwriting samples indicate that this is Mr. Kent's writing."

"It is," Lois said, recognizing the sloppy print immediately.

"Well, then, allow me to read it for you," Cortez said. "It might shed some light on things for you." A bit wary, but incredibly curious, Lois nodded a go-ahead. Cortez cleared his throat before beginning.

"Dear Lois. I hope you understand why I left the night Richard died and why I've been trying to give you space since then. I can't imagine what you must feel like right now, and I didn't want to complicate things. I also know that you hate clichés, but I must tell you how truly sorry I am for what happened."

So far, that seemed pretty benign, although him admitting to leaving when Richard was killed caused a flare of anger in her. Whatever was going on, Clark had some explaining to do. But from the look on Detective Cortez's face as he glanced at her before reading the next part, Lois had a feeling something worse might be coming.

"Lois, I know neither one of us can deny that what we have is special," Cortez read, causing Lois's shoulders to immediately tense up in surprise. What on earth was Clark talking about? "I am not going to deny my feelings, but I don't expect you to want to rush into anything. But if and when you are ready, I'll be here. I am always here for you. I will always wait for you."

Now Lois felt like she needed a thorough hand-washing and perhaps a good stiff drink. She couldn't believe Clark had written this, but there it was, black and white and in his distinctly haphazard handwriting.

Cortez could tell how flustered she was, and moved slowly as he folded the paper and stuck it back in the envelope. "That's the end of the letter. It seems like it wasn't completed." Lois was struck mute for a moment as she tried to run those words over in her brain, tried to imagine any other interpretation for them than the one that seemed readily apparent. But she couldn't think of one. And in a strange way, it made sense.

"Detective," she finally said, shaking her head, "I knew Clark had some feelings for me, but I had no idea he was that obsessed. But I assure you, the feelings were not mutual. Frankly, I don't know how he could be that deluded. We went on one date years ago and have never been romantically linked. What does he mean by 'what we have is special'?" by the end of her rant, she was more incensed than shocked.

Cortez seemed reasonably satisfied with Lois's vehement denial. "Honestly, Ms. Lane, we had a feeling that would be your reaction. Your co-workers said you never seemed to exhibit anything but friendly professionalism towards Mr. Kent. I'm sorry, but I had to ask you to be sure. Clearly, Mr. Kent simply has some strong delusions about yourself which you weren't aware of."

"I guess not," Lois said, her voice a whisper, her brain spinning. If she had missed how irrationally obsessed Clark was with her, what else had she failed to realize he was capable of? Her stomach began plummeting like an elevator in freefall. Her hands clutched the edge of the couch tightly as the horrible realization hit. "My God," she rasped out. He was guilty.

---

Clark thought his usually slow, steady heart was going to leap out of his chest as Stone had read the letter they'd found in his apartment. The letter he had been drafting, was going to send to Lois in 'Superman's handwriting', which was a neat cursive he usually didn't take the time to pen. And he had decided not to send the letter, anyway. It just didn't seem right. It seemed too intrusive, even coming from a man he knew Lois was in love with.

But hearing Stone spit out the words like those of a crazed obsessive killer… well, it made Clark realize just how badly this all looked to the police. Luthor had set him up. Had set him up very well. How could he ever explain this without revealing his secret?

"Well, we're not so quick to toss out denials now, are we?" Stone said, leaning forward onto the table, his face getting close to Clark's, those piercing eyes glowering at him. "Now, I don't need much of an explanation for why you killed the guy. I just wanna know how in the world you thought you'd get away with it, Kent."

Clark wet his lips and clenched his fists before replying, "I need to speak to a lawyer."

Stone stood straight up, sneering. "You're damn right you do."


	9. Chapter 7

It didn't seem real. Not quite, anyway, until he had spoken the words to someone else. "They think I killed Richard," he'd said. He stood waiting as a stunned silence prevailed for an agonizingly long few seconds. Clark held his breath and the phone in anticipation of a reply. He had an irrational fear that his mother would suddenly shrink away in doubt once he told her.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. "Oh, Clark," Martha replied in the soft voice of someone struggling to fight back a sudden wave of tears. "Who would do something like that to you?"

"The person you'd expect," Clark replied, glancing briefly over his shoulder at the guard who was staring at him with hawkish eyes as he spoke on the jailhouse phone. This wasn't exactly the best place for Clark to speak openly about Lex Luthor, but he trusted his mother's practiced ability to understand the unspoken message.

When Martha spoke again, her voice had a new fearful edge to it, a slight trembling as if she were afraid to ask the next question. "But why would he come after _you, _Clark?" She let his name hang in the air, the meaning of her question clear.

His stomach lurched just thinking about the reason why and all the implications. Clark pulled the mouthpiece of the phone close. His lips parted, but his voice faltered for a moment. He shut his eyes and said softly, "He knows, Mom."

There was a beat. A silence on the other end as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "_Knows_?" the reply came through the line like an exhalation from a sucker punch. Martha's voice trembled with panic. "Clark, son… oh my word," she began to stammer with hysteria, and Clark didn't blame her for it. "You have to get out of there."

Despite the circumstances, amazingly, her concern brought a small, unexpected smile to Clark's lips. Her worrying was oddly comforting. "Mom, I'm ok," he replied gently, warmed by the thought of her indelible sense of protectiveness. Where others saw an unbeatable hero, she always saw her child, the boy she still felt the need to look out for. Her love was one of the few things that had not changed in his absence.

"I'm getting a lawyer," Clark continued, "and I'm going to figure out how to get out of this." He hadn't bothered to tell her all the evidence they had stacked up. Strangely, it made him feel guilty to think of, even though there wasn't a shred of truth to most of it. "But mom," he said, "I'm worried about you."

It took a moment for his mother to understand his meaning. "You think he might…?" she sounded skeptical, but just hearing the possibility voiced made Clark tense up. Luthor wasn't finished yet, of that he could be sure. And as much as Clark didn't want to think about the darkest possibilities for what Luthor had planned, he knew those were exactly the kinds of things Lex would be most likely to do.

"I don't know what he's planning," Clark said slowly, "but there's a reason he went through all this trouble to put me in here. That's why I had to call you now- you have to get out of Smallville. Just to be safe."

Martha sounded shaken, but her stolid spirit gave her voice a stubborn edge. "All right, Clark," she said. "I'll take the first flight out of Kansas City tomorrow, to wherever you think I should go."

"No," he replied immediately. "You can't wait that long and you shouldn't risk traveling that far. You have to get someplace safe right away."

"I'm going to see you," Martha stated firmly, "I'm not letting him scare me away."

"Mom, please," Clark urged desperately, "listen to me. This isn't a purse snatcher or even a normal murderer. He's extremely dangerous. You know how many times he's gotten close to killing _me_." He was sure she hadn't forgotten his near-death experience only a month before. It would be worlds easier for Luthor to find Martha. Clark could just imagine the kind of sick pleasure it would give Lex to use his mother as some kind of bargaining chip to help get whatever it was he wanted out of him. The thought made Clark seethe. He wasn't going to let that happen.

"I guess you'd know better than I would," Martha conceded. "But where do you think I should go?"

"Do you still keep in touch with Ray Caldwell?"

"Yes," Martha replied. "I just saw him Saturday at the Farmer's Market."

"Kent," the guard behind Clark suddenly and sharply called out. Clark tried to pretend he hadn't heard, but the guard stepped up and pressed his nightstick firmly into the small of his back. The guard moved around to his side and sneered into Clark's ear. "Look, scumbag, when I take the trouble to call you by name, you answer me."

"Clark?" Martha inquired from the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry," Clark apologized to the man, not wanting more trouble than he already had.

"Not as sorry as you'll be if you don't get off that damn phone," the guard spat. "Your time's up and your little lawyer's here to see you."

"Uh," Clark stammered, holding up a finger. "Just a minute." He quickly brought the phone back up to his mouth. The guard continued staring at him angrily, and Clark tried to avoid eye-contact with him as he spoke. "Mom?"

"What's going on?" she asked nervously.

"Nothing." He remembered where he had been and continued urgently, "Get Ray to take you in his crop plane up to Topeka. There's a high security police force there since it's the capital. Explain that you need police protection. Explain my situation."

Martha hesitated, but gave in. "I'll be fine, don't you worry." She sounded wary, but still managed to be more concerned about him than herself. Once again, Clark was amazed by her selflessness. "Promise me you'll look out for yourself, too, Clark."

Clark smiled, half touched and half pained. "I will, Mom." He wasn't a bit worried about himself, but for her sake, he would try to be careful. For all their sakes. Whatever else Luthor was planning, he needed to be there ready to stop it. No matter what it took. "Now go, right away."

"I will." She paused a moment to draw a breath. "I love you, Son."

She always spoke those words to him, but somehow they seemed so much more important now. Clark recalled her repeated proclamations that he was never alone. Once again, he realized how important she was to him. "I lo-"

A large hand clanged down hard on the receiver switch, cutting Clark off. He looked over, dumbstruck, to see the guard sneering at him.

"Enough time with your mommy," the guard spat out with a derisive smirk. "Come on." He pulled Clark away from the phone so suddenly that he dropped the receiver. The piercing note of the dial tone droned on as the phone clanged into the wall then twisted precariously at the end of the cord.


	10. Chapter 8

NOTE: So I still only have internet two days a week, briefly, at school. Hooray : And I'm expending tons of creative energy on film projects, but I'm praying I can keep up with posting once a week. This is actually the last of my "reserve" chapters which means from here on I have to actually write them as I go. I have it all planned it just takes me a while to write sometimes... so I'm going to do my very best to update once a week but if I fail, remember I'm only human and please don't hurt me! Your support is much appreciated.

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The visitor's room, the room where his lawyer was to meet him, turned out to be yet another extremely bleak place. Clark had helped put so many people in jail over the years, but he had failed to realize he'd never really seen the inside of one. The metal, the sterility… if he was honest with himself, it was getting to him already.

But he was determined not to let that pull him down. That's exactly what Luthor would want, exactly the reason he'd set Clark up. Well, that twisted old man could imagine Clark suffering to his black heart's content, but he couldn't simply wish misery into being.

So when Clark entered to meet his lawyer, he entered with an even stride and an extended hand. The sleek, dark woman standing across the table from him blinked in confusion. Clark guessed she wasn't used to that. But she reached across the table slowly and shook his hand anyway. "Dana Cunningham," she introduced herself.

"Clark Kent," he replied, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn't quite feel.

He thought he saw the corner of her lips twitching in the beginning of a wry smile. "I know who you are," she replied, looking him over. She was clearly a bit confused. He couldn't have been what she expected. Clark stared back at her, swallowing in anticipation. Dana's slight smile melted into a thin line. "Ok, first thing," she began, "you're going to have to do me a favor."

"Sure," Clark replied, eager to help however he could. This was his life they were talking about, after all. And the lives of so many others.

Dana stared at him with dark, serious eyes. "Don't ogle every woman who walks in the room. It's not going to be very helpful to your case."

Clark's mouth dropped open. "I wasn't-"

"And don't apologize. It makes it sound like you have something to be guilty about," she replied. Clark closed his mouth, feeling that his attempt at optimism had been resoundingly shot down. He decided to let her take the lead. She scooted her chair out and sat down, waving for him to do the same. Tapping a thin file sitting out on the table, she continued, "I've read up on you and I've looked through your deposition. How do you think I should feel about you based on that?"

Clark shrugged, responding slowly, "I guess… I hope you believe I'm innocent."

"Ah-ah, stop right there," Dana said, holding up a hand. "If you spend all your time trying to convince me that you're innocent, we're never going to get to the important things."

"The important...?" Clark could hardly believe what she had said. How was he supposed to respond to that?

"I don't care if you're innocent. I care what can and can't be proven. That's my job," she stated firmly, laying her hands flat against the metallic surface of the table and leaning in slightly. Clark could easily tell how seriously she took her job. That was encouraging, but the harshness in her tone surprised him.

"Well," he replied quietly, "I didn't kill Richard White. I just thought you should know that."

Dana leaned back. Her eyes narrowed as she took Clark in, examining him as he imagined she would a piece of evidence. After a moment, she nodded. "Good. I almost believed that." Clark let out a small sigh. He thought his lawyer of all people should believe him, but that wasn't how it worked. He guessed it wasn't how it worked, anyway. How was he to know?

"You still don't believe me," he stated plainly.

Dana rubbed her temples slowly and closed her eyes for a moment. It seemed as if she had been through this issue before, because when she opened her eyes, she immediately launched into what sounded like a polished speech. "I'm not your jury, Mr. Kent. Some people do this pro bono job because they can't get a real one. I do it because once in a while someone comes through here who is actually innocent but doesn't have a clue about how to make sure he proves it. Now, I have no way of knowing who has or hasn't committed the crimes he's accused of. All I can do is be the best damn lawyer I can be in the hope that maybe some of the people I help get off the hook didn't deserve to be on it in the first place."

A silence settled over the room as she exhaled and waited for him to take in her words. She meant what she said, that much he could tell. And he had to admire that kind of commitment to justice without the hope of much reward. "I'm sorry," Clark said quietly, pushing up his glasses. "I'm just a little thrown by this whole thing."

With a sigh, Dana's shoulders seemed to loosen, and her demeanour along with it. Her voice grew less tense. "That doesn't surprise me. To be frank, Mr. Kent, you're not my usual clientele." Now she seemed to be more curious than anything, "I wonder… how is it that a Daily Planet reporter can't afford a lawyer? You must make, what, $80,000 a year?"

"Uh," Clark found himself a bit at a loss. It wasn't quite the kind of question one was normally asked, but he supposed it was best to be open with her. Well, as open as was possible in his situation, which wasn't very. In the grand scheme of things, divulging his finances seemed like an incredibly minor difficulty right now. "Seventy-five," he said. "But I've been on a kind of sabbatical for the last five years, so I've used up most of my savings." More correctly, his mother had used much of it up, albeit reluctantly. But he hadn't been about to fly off to Krypton without making sure she'd had enough money to run the farm. "And half my salary is sent to my mother," he added.

Her jaw didn't quite drop, but Clark could tell it took a lot for her to hold it in place, along with her surprise. Instead, she simply eyed him, let out a small laugh and muttered, "Should have known." Then she tapped her fingers on the table. "You know, we might have to put you on the stand if it comes to that. You certainly don't look the picture of a vengeful killer. But hopefully we should be able to keep this case from going to trial in the first place."

That made Clark nervous. Sitting in this jail even overnight was a horrifying thought to him. Just waiting, at Luthor's mercy as he made his next move… it made Clark sick to even think about it. This time was bad enough. Any more time spent locked up was simply unacceptable. He'd find a way to curtail it if absolutely necessary. But he wouldn't take a plea. "I'm not going to negotiate with them," he stated flatly. "That's not an option."

"All right, it's good that I know you feel that way," Dana said. It seemed like she had capitulated a bit too easily on that, like she would save that argument for a later date. Of course, Clark knew he didn't have time for a later date. He had to get out of here as soon as possible, whatever it took.

"Is there any way for you to get me out on bail?" he asked with a guarded amount of hopefulness.

Dana shifted in her seat slightly, then opened the file on the table almost absently. "It's extremely rare for someone charged with first degree murder to be offered bail in Metropolis." She paused, looked at him squarely. "Clark, let's be realistic. The evidence they have, we can fight in court. But it's more than enough for a judge to decide to keep you in jail for the remainder of the investigation and trial process."

A sickening and unfamiliar feeling of falling came over him for a moment. Images of all the horrible things that could happen while he was in there, the things Luthor might do, flashed through his mind like a morbid film montage. "Please," he said quietly, "_Please _do your best to try anyway."

"Of course," Dana replied. "You shouldn't get your hopes up, but of course I'll try. I do need your cooperation and honesty, though. If I'm going to refute evidence, I have to know what to spend my time on and what not to bother with."

He wanted to tell her that all of it could be refuted, and in a sense that was true. It could be refuted by the truth, but obviously that wasn't an option for Clark. "I'll help with whatever I can," he said, a bit defeated by knowing just how much he would be unable to explain.

"Much of the evidence is circumstantial and a lot of it can't actually be connected to you directly," Dana said. Then her clipped speaking pace slowed for emphasis. "But we really need to work on is the motive angle."

Clark slowly nodded for her to continue, although he had a feeling he would regret the direction the conversation was going. Unfortunately, this kind of freight train was one he could not stop from crashing eventually, no matter how hard he tried.

"Legally, the particulars of the evidence are important. But practically…" Dana flipped through the pages of Clark's file, in a way that was probably more intentional than it seemed. "Juries tend to get enthralled with the big picture being painted. They're wooed by a thrilling story. They don't care if the details aren't so clear up close."

"So how do you change the picture?" Clark asked.

The pages of the file stopped turning as they fell open to one particular page- a copy of the letter they'd found in Clark's apartment. Dana spun it around so that it was facing him. "Explain this to me, Clark. It's your handwriting, we know that. They know that and they can prove it." She put one elbow on the table and leaned her face against her slender hand. "And honest to God, Clark, I can't figure out how it could be interpreted any other way. So I need your help on this one. I need you to be completely honest with me."

The words glared up at him like an indictment. His own words, screaming up at him. _What we have is special_, he'd written. He'd said _I'll always wait for you. _But he'd never even planned on sending it. It hadn't taken much reflection for him to figure out that what Lois needed most from him was distance. But it didn't change the fact that he'd meant what he'd written. There was no way around that. "This," he began, then cleared his throat and shook his head. "This isn't what it sounds like. It's just some thoughts, taken out of context. It had nothing to do with Richard."

Dana reached for the paper and looked at it herself as she spoke. "Well, that's our only salvation there so far. There's no indication of intent to kill Richard. In fact, there's no mention of him directly at all." She slid the paper back into the file and gazed at Clark. "Please tell me you never expressed a desire to kill Richard White to anyone."

He looked at her, not in anger or irritation this time, but with sadness. The sadness of realizing how he must look to everyone else right now. "No," he said, too tired to really sound exasperated. "I didn't want to kill him. He was a good man. I respected him."

She steepled her hands against her mouth for a moment, glancing back and forth between Clark and the file. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she considered whether or not to believe him. Naturally, he wanted her to, but it was starting to seem like that might be impossible to accomplish. Clark was fully prepared for yet another reiteration of what her job as his lawyer was. So he was not at all ready for what she actually said.

"Are you in love with her?"

Something very like panic flooded through him. He hadn't been prepared for that question. And he was so emotionally exhausted that his ability to keep his feelings on the subject well-masked were significantly diminished. It was probably only half a second before he became aware of the chagrinned expression on his face and corrected it, but it was enough. Dana was sharp, and the unmistakeable signs of having hit the nail squarely on the head weren't about to be lost on her. "I…" Clark began, but when it came out as a guilty-sounding stammer, he decided to stay quiet. He knew he couldn't lie about it.

Dana sat back in her chair heavily and let out a sigh. It seemed like that was the last thing she needed to find out, and Clark couldn't blame her for being exasperated. He certainly wasn't making this case any easier for her. Seemingly unable to look at him for the moment, Dana stood and paced slowly toward the wall, running a hand down the side of her face. She stopped and stared at the cracked concrete, collecting her thoughts. When she looked back at him, he clenched his jaw, determined not to show any signs of the distress he was feeling.

"You're going to have to do a very good job of not letting the way you feel about her show when we're in that courtroom," she said pointedly.

There was no point in denying her assumption about how he felt at this point. "I can do that," he replied.

She gave him a sidelong glance, "Don't be so sure of yourself. You think the prosecution is just going to skirt around the issue? Hardly. I wasn't able to read your answer just now because I'm a lawyer, I was able to read you because you might as well have shouted it from the rooftops." Clark swallowed and looked down at the smooth metallic surface of the table. "Hey, look at me," Dana said, moving to stand across the table from him. He obliged. "Ok, maybe we won't put you on the stand because they'd ask about it and you're clearly not going to do well with that. Just don't even look at her when you're in that courtroom, especially when she's on the stand."

"On the stand?" he asked, sounding confused, but having a good idea of what she meant anyway. He was just hoping he misunderstood her.

But he hadn't. "She's agreed to testify for the prosecution, Clark," Dana replied quietly.

This time, he made no attempt to mask his feelings. It was hard to mask the sensation of being so devastated you couldn't breathe. Of feeling like, regardless of how many tons he could lift, the world was collapsing on top of him. It was that horrific and unmistakeable feeling that came with losing someone he deeply loved.

"I'm sorry," Dana said softly. Clark couldn't muster a response. "We can talk about this more later. I'm going to work on getting a bail hearing for you soon," she said, packing up her things and heading for the door. She seemed to sense that he wasn't going to be able to say anything more right now. "Get some rest," she said as she exited.


	11. Chapter 9

NOTE: I can't really apologize enough for the long hiatus. I wound up not having internet all fall and was also extremely busy both interning at Warner Bros. and making 4 short films. It was great, but it's also nice to have a bit more free time now. So I'm back in the saddle. Again, sorry, I never intended it to take that long. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as it picks back up now, and let me know if you do!

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He stared out over the city, _his_ city, as if observing a kingdom. With slow, deliberate movements, he stoked the end of a cigar with his lighter. He drew in a breath of smoke, then exhaled it smoothly, like a slumbering dragon. Never had the term "free reign" felt more real to Lex Luthor than at this moment.

"When a plan comes together…" he mused to himself, the edges of his lips curling up around the cigar. Drawing another breath of warm smoke, he let his mind wander to schemes of takeover, power, control. Lex for Mayor, Lex for Governor, Lex for President. With Superman firmly put away, what was to stop him? Lex couldn't help but marvel at the ironic genius of the situation he had created. For it was nothing but Clark Kent's own deception that now held him in prison. And that thought was more wonderful than any dreams of glory for himself that Lex might have.

No, he knew his personal grand schemes would have to wait. But it was no trouble. The chance to devastate his arch enemy personally was much more valuable than an opportunity to better himself. Anyone with enough manpower or money could force himself to the top. But who could take on a god?

Lex exhaled a slow stream of smoke which, in the windless night air, collected in front of his face like a veil. He could see no city, no kingdom, no harvest ripe for the reaping. He could see nothing but revenge, could view nothing further than the complete and utter destruction of Clark Kent. This _Superman_, so called, having his world torn apart and him helpless to stop it. That contemptuous goal was the single thought in his mind.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lex caught his throw-away cell phone blinking in his pocket, a call coming in. With deliberate movements, he reached into his pocket, opened it with both hands, and held it to his ear. The cigar moved away from his lips, and he stood for a moment before speaking. His voice was a low, gravelly sound, rock grinding against rock relentlessly as he spoke the words: "Kill her."

-----

Lois lay in bed alone, feeling intensely cold. Maybe, she reasoned, there was something wrong with the thermostat in her sister's apartment. She wished that were the case, but who was she kidding? The cold she felt creeping into every bone in her body wasn't from the air. Instead, it felt like a sickness, radiated from her stomach, or maybe from the empty half of the bed beside her.

She vaguely remembered being told in science classes that, strictly speaking, cold didn't exist. It was simply an absence. A lack of heat. A void.

It was no wonder pulling the blankets up around her neck wasn't making it go away. That was the problem- it had gone away. _He _had gone away, so unexpectedly. All the doubts and second guesses she might have had the last month meant nothing in the end. She had loved Richard, and now he was gone. Just earlier in the day, she had been talking to him, laughing with him. God, was that really just a few days ago? It seemed like a completely different lifetime.

Lois sat straight up, throwing the blankets off and swinging her feet onto the floor. She was struck with a sudden restlessness. It seemed useless to lie here next to a cold, empty void. She stood, unconsciously rubbing her arms as if that could help to warm herself. Stepping quietly, she headed out into the hallway and in the direction of the kitchen.

But in her near somnambulant state, Lois was unaware of her surroundings. It wasn't until she began falling forward that she realized her foot was tangled up in the electric chord of a lamp. As it happened, the lamp and Lois hit the floor at the same time, with a loud crashing sound filling the room as pieces of ceramic shattered everywhere.

It took a moment for Lois to even realize what had happened, given how disconnected with her surroundings she felt. When she did notice the broken pieces of lamp all over the linoleum, she cringed. Slowly, as quietly as she could, Lois began to methodically pick up the pieces and collect them into her left hand.

A second later, soft footsteps padded down the carpeted hallway and stopped behind Lois. "Lo?" a voice whispered. "What happened?" Lucy crouched down beside her older sister, giving her an inquisitive glance.

"I'm sorry, Lucy, I just wasn't paying attention…" Lois muttered, her eyes still on the floor. "I'm sorry about the lamp."

"Hey," Lucy said, then repeated, this time setting a gentle hand on Lois's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it, Lois. It's just some cheap thing from IKEA. Are you ok?"

A gentle hand on her chin forced Lois to look up from the broken shards into her sister's caring face. The only answer she could manage was a shuddering sigh. Lucy wrapped her thin arms around Lois's neck and pulled her tight for a few moments. Lois wanted to cry, to shower her sister's back with her tears, but nothing came out.

They parted, and Lois forced a smile. "Thanks, Lu."

"No, when you can really thank me is after you've had some hot chocolate," Lucy said, a characteristic twinkle in her eye. She stood, pulling Lois up with her. They carefully stepped around the pieces of the lamp and towards the bar. Lois sat while Lucy began getting out the mugs, milk, and mix. Her little sister didn't say anything as she began making up the drinks, which was surprising.

Eventually, Lois spoke up. "Did I wake Jason up?"

"I'm sure if you had, he'd be in here. He was sound asleep in his guest room when I went to bed," Lucy assured her. Lois had to take her sister's word for it. She hadn't returned from the police station until nearly midnight.

"Thanks for tucking him in," Lois said. "I don't think I would have been in any shape to even if I had gotten in at a decent time."

Lucy shook her head as she turned to the microwave to warm up the mugs. "Between you and me, I can't believe the cops had the nerve to bring you in for questioning on the day of the funeral."

Looking down at the swirling stone countertop pattern, Lois said quietly, "I think they had good reasons to."

Lucy pressed start on the microwave, giving herself some time before turning around again. "So I take it you think Clark Kent…?"

Lois shook her head. "Honestly, Lu, I can't imagine it. But then again, I couldn't imagine Richard getting killed." The cold void made the hairs on her arms stand up, just at its mention. As if on cue, the microwave dinged and Lucy pulled out the steaming cups of hot chocolate. Accepting hers as though it were a gift proffered from God, Lois clasped its warmth in both hands, not really caring how it would taste so much as how it felt. "I just wonder how I could ever be such a bad judge of character," Lois began. "When the detectives explained their suspicions about Clark to me… It made sense. I can't believe I didn't put it together before. We worked together for so long. Now I feel like I never even knew who he was in the first place."

"Don't even think about blaming yourself for this," Lucy admonished. "You are the victim here, remember?"

"I thought Richard was the victim," Lois replied bluntly, lifting her mug to her mouth and taking a sip. The hot liquid in her throat did little to stave off the cold in her whole being. Lucy looked unsure of what to say, so Lois, tired of feeling more fragile under her sister's gaze, said, "You look tired. You should go to bed."

"I look tired?" Lucy asked, incredulous. But she must have read the underlying request in Lois's eyes. For perhaps the first time in their relationship, the younger sister decided to give her big sister a rest and leave her alone. "Ok, but don't stay up all night." Lucy set her mug on the countertop and slid it over towards Lois. "Have mine, too." She gave Lois a reassuring hug on her way past, stepped around the broken vase on the floor, and went back down the hall to her room, leaving Lois alone with her thoughts and cocoa.

It was touching, Lois admitted, that her sister wanted so badly to be there for her. But there was far too much that Lois wouldn't- and couldn't- express to anyone other than those closest to her. There had only been two of those people in her recent life, really. And now one of them was being dragged into the horrific realm of memory, when he should have been there at her side.

But if Lois was honest with herself, which she found herself being as she numbly sipped at the supposedly hot chocolate in her hands, even Richard did not know her through and through. He had never quite got to the point of possessing the power to seemingly know her better than she knew herself. It was her own fault. But part of her hand always been somewhere else.

And where was that part of her now? He had flown off at the hospital. No doubt he didn't want to make things more difficult than they already were. But truth be told, she had desperately wanted him to stay. She should have said so. And now it was beyond a want, it was a need. Lois was beginning to feel she might actually be overcome by that dark, cold void if she didn't hear a reassuring word from him soon. She needed him. And worst of all, in her present state, she was terrified of how to care for Jason. His son. Their son, who would need the strength more than she would. Staying away was not going to help, and she needed to let him know it.

Lois couldn't bring herself to take another sip of the hot chocolate. It was like putting a band-aid over a cracked chest. As she set it down on the counter, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Superman, where are you?"

-----

It was dark in the jail cell, but not quiet. It was never quiet. He had made an effort many years ago to block out all the noises, and had gotten pretty good at it. But he'd found that when things got particularly stressful, it became increasingly difficult to tune out the noise. So it was not only the regular noise of men hissing profanities at one another from across their halls that kept Clark from sleeping. It was the taxis, the muggings, the casinos in Atlantic City, the roar of the ocean, the rustling of leaves in Central Park. It was every noise, and it was none of them. Because most of all it was his own thoughts.

Clark had always been cautious, always tried to be as careful as possible. He wasn't always the best at planning in advance- often he didn't have the luxury. But his careful nature insisted upon having contingency plans when at all possible.

There was no contingency plan for this. It was clear he couldn't exonerate himself without giving away his identity. Luthor had wanted it that way. If it had just been his own privacy on the line, Clark would have revealed his identity in an instant. But it was more complicated than that. He had his mother, his friends, anyone close to him that his enemies might put in danger to think about. And there was Lois. It was not only for fear that she would be in danger but for fear of the implications of her knowing the truth that Clark worried about her. Especially now, now that she thought he…

Desperate to push away his racing thoughts and to block out all the sounds assaulting his ears, Clark closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. If he could focus in on one sound, a soothing sound, he might be able to keep the rest at bay. So he let his ears flit over the innumerable sounds of the night, trying to alight on one that might bring him peace. He tried not to direct his ears, but somehow they wound up zeroing in on a solitary, desperate whisper anyway.

"_Where are you, Superman?"_

He heard her whisper. In spite of himself, he couldn't pull his ears away. He listened to her breathing, to the beat of her heart, and wished that he could erase all the pain he had now caused her. Clark stayed that way, focused on Lois, soothed but also anguished over her state. Even if he were free now, how on earth would he reconcile everything to her? To Jason?

"KENT!" a voice shouted, banging a nightstick against the metal bars of his cell in a horrible cacophony. Clark snapped out of his reverie, just then noticing the guard who must have been standing there for some time to be so riled up. "Are you deaf or something?" the man asked.

"Sorry, sir," Clark said, rising from his bed to walk towards the guard. He wondered what he could have done wrong on his first night in jail to cause such a fuss in the middle of the night. He couldn't think of an offense, but that didn't mean they couldn't find one. "Is something wrong?"

The guard gave him a look that, though staunch, seemed cracked around the edges with sympathy. It made Clark very uneasy, and he waited with baited breath for the reply. The guard replied slowly, "We got a phone call from some police station in Kansas." Clark froze, praying to not hear what he was about to hear. The guard, actually apologetic this time, continued. "Something happened to your mother."


	12. Chapter 10, part 1

NOTE: Sorry, I know this is short, but I wanted to go ahead and post it because the second part of this chapter is likely to be long and warrants its own post. So it should be done in a few days, but hope this ties you over until then. Glad you all are still enjoying.

* * *

"What's going on?" Clark asked, hardly waiting until Dana had closed the door to the visiting room before jumping in. He'd been pacing around the room for nearly twenty minutes, and the guards wouldn't tell him anything more. He had half a mind to burst through the ceiling right then and take off to Kansas to find out for himself. But he'd managed to restrain himself long enough for his lawyer to arrive.

"Clark," Dana said, in a tone clearly meant to calm him down, "have a seat."

This was the last thing he wanted to do. He was doing his best just to avoid crunching the chair into a mass of metal. He shook his head tersely. There had been enough of him sitting back and letting things happen in the last week. In his gut, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever had happened was Luthor's doing. Luthor's doing, but his fault. Clark was almost literally sick over it. "Just tell me what happened to my mother. Is she all right?"

Even in the very short period of time she'd known him, Dana must have been able to tell that Clark was uncharacteristically tense. She held up a reassuring hand. "First of all, your mother is alive."

A sigh escaped his mouth, but only a measured one. His shoulders remained tense; if they had to reassure him of his mother being alive in the first place, it must have meant her life had been threatened. "But is she okay?" he asked.

"Well," Dana said, looking down a moment before catching his eyes again, this time speaking more slowly. "She had some injuries. Mostly a few broken bones, but at her age, those can be fairly painful and complicated."

"Mostly?" Clark asked, frustrated at this lawyerly tap-dancing Dana was doing. He was not normally an impatient person. But circumstances were far beyond normal.

Clearly detecting his need for the truth to just come out, Dana sighed and resigned herself to it. "She's unconscious. Not exactly in a coma," she was quick to add. "But she had a pretty bad concussion and they put her on some medicines to keep the swelling down and those are keeping her unconscious for now."

Clark drew a shaky breath. He finally forced himself to sit down in the small metal chair, trying to calm down and resist his urge to literally take flight. Dana seemed happy to have him seated, and pulled out the chair across from him. "She's at KU Med Center in Kansas City. It was the best hospital nearby."

That puzzled him a little. That was about two hours from Smallville, though much less by helicopter. Still, Wichita would have been closer. "Wait, where was she? What happened to her?" In his hysteria, he realized he'd neglected to even think of what could have occurred. He had been worried about her safety all day, but he wasn't quite thinking clearly.

"She was in a small plane crash, a crop dusting kind of plane, just outside of Topeka. Something about a mayday landing." Dana seemed apologetic to not know more details.

It was only then that the pieces fell together. Clark had told her over the phone to get Ray Caldwell to take her to the capital for superior police protection. But this had to be Luthor's doing. It was far too great a coincidence for it not to be. But the prospect sent a chill down Clark's spine. How had Luthor found out about the plan? He had only told his mother several hours ago, and only over the prison phone. Clark could only imagine the sick lengths Luthor must have gone to for this. He didn't know whether he was more afraid or angry. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "What happened to the pilot? Ray Caldwell?"

A shadow moved across Dana's expression. "Unfortunately, he was killed, along with the other passenger."

"Other passenger?"

Dana rubbed her bleary eyes and rummaged through her purse for something. It was only then that Clark realized it was terribly late, and wondered at her coming there to tell him this news. He felt badly for not being more grateful that someone who barely knew him would go to those lengths for him, and reminded himself to thank her. "Ah, here," she said, finding a note that apparently held the pertinent information. She squinted at it, then responded, "Ben Hubbard."

Clark was speechless. His mouth dropped open slightly, but no words came out. He didn't quite know what to say. All he felt was an incredible guilt slamming into his chest. But he couldn't begin to explain his reasons why to his lawyer. All he could do was stare silently down at the table, reach up, rub the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, and wordlessly beg forgiveness.

Dana paused a moment before asking quietly, "I take it you knew him?"

Glancing up, Clark nodded numbly. "Yeah," he mumbled. Clearing his throat, he pulled himself together and sat up a little straighter. "Ah, yes. He was a family friend and he helped a lot after my father died. And he and my mother were... seeing each other." It was a subject he had been a little sore about, but now all he could think about was how heartbroken Martha must be, and that it was all his fault.

"I'm sorry," Dana replied, sounding genuinely so. "Look, I didn't mean to come and upset what I'm sure was already a really great night for you." She offered a weak smile. "The police just told me the news and I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible."

"No, I'm glad you told me. Thank you." For all his practice at facades, Clark could not manage a smile back. Everything was hitting him, one thing after another, and he couldn't even find his feet before something else knocked him down. It was hellish, and he couldn't help but worry what the next thing Luthor would do was. He knew there would be more, and sitting here waiting for it was too much to bear. "Can I go see her? When?" he asked, the thought coming to mind that any chance at getting out would give him the opportunity to find Lex.

But Dana seemed extremely hesitant in her response. "Your arraignment is set for tomorrow afternoon. They'll set bail then, so there's a slight possibility… but I have to be honest with you, Clark, even in extenuating circumstances such as this, first degree murder is not something you can usually get bail for. Especially in a high profile case like this." She looked him in the eye. "But I promise to do my best. You never know."

Clark was smart enough to catch the underlying _no way in Hell_ in those remarks. Still, he managed a nod. "All right. Thank you." What else could he say? What could he do? Nothing but sit by and watch everything he cared about fall apart from a distance. Not to mention all the other horrible things out there he could be preventing right now. And here he was, sitting.

Dana slowly stood. "Again, I'm sorry to have made this more difficult for you than it already was. I would ask you to get some sleep, but I don't think that's likely, is it?" Clark said nothing in response. Dana gave him one last apologetic look as she headed out the door. "I'm sorry, Clark."

And so was he.

-----

The morning air was fresh after just one night in the cramped, stale jail. Getting out into the exercise yard seemed to help all the inmates breathe a little easier.

Except Clark Kent. While the others scattered about, most of them breaking into small groups and beginning to chat, he wandered away silently, around the corner of the building, off by himself. His jaw was set tightly. Not a thing he could think of was relieving or refreshing. There was only one thing on his mind.

The guards in the watchtower hardly paid any attention to the people down below. This was not, after all, a maximum security prison. Many of the men in here, like Clark, were simply awaiting trial. Others were serving short sentences. There wasn't much to watch out for.

Clark wandered away on his own, to a secluded corner of the yard. Out of sight. He stared at the grey uniform they had given him the day before, a seeming mockery of who he truly was.

He glanced at the unobservant guards.

He looked up at the vast expanse of blue sky.

He disappeared in a blur.


	13. Chapter 10, part 2

NOTE: Ok, so on the whole this has wound up being one of the longest fic chapters I've ever written... whew! It was a doozey. Hope you enjoy it. It'll probably be about a week until the next post, at least, because of how much this covered... you might need it to recover, though ;)

* * *

The night had come and gone, and Lois hadn't gotten a minute of sleep. She'd really thought she might, after her talk with Lucy, but her mind wouldn't stop racing. She'd wound up watching animal documentaries on the Discovery Channel all night. Every other channel she'd flipped to had been filled with violence and crime. She'd never really realized just how pervasive it was in her culture before now. Not until it became personal. Idly, she wondered what it would be like to go back to reporting on such atrocities. Would she have a renewed passion to bring down the unjust? Or would she always be this sensitive, this ready to collapse at the mention of an unfortunate death or killing?

At least gentle images of pollination and bee communication dances were keeping her mind off of it for the present. Jason was finally sleeping well and she wasn't about to wake him up. Neither of them had been sleeping much in the past few days. Lucy had taken off for work after many insistences by Lois that she'd be fine with Jason for the day. Jason. The poor boy. He couldn't really understand everything that was going on. He was old enough to realize what death meant, but not old enough to comprehend the full meaning of the situation. She hadn't told him about Clark's arrest. How on earth was she supposed to explain that to him? She didn't even understand it herself.

As she watched the little yellow bees dancing across the screen, Lois was growing extremely restless. She reached for the remote and turned the TV off, then quickly stood and began heading towards the kitchen. She'd never been very capable of sitting in one place for very long, and a couple hours of nature shows had proven quite enough for her. Oddly enough, she was beginning to crave toast with honey, though.

But just as Lois reached for the cabinet door, she felt a soft wind against her face. It was blown in from the screen door leading to the apartment balcony. It shouldn't have seemed unusual. After all, it was just the wind. But the way it came gently out of nowhere, the soft sound of boots settling on concrete that she could swear she heard almost made her heart stop. When she turned to glance at the balcony, her heart jolted to again, instantly racing. It _was _him.

Forgetting what she was doing and any sense of boundary she might have had earlier, Lois rushed towards the balcony, threw open the screen door, and latched on to Superman. His strong arms beside her, the familiar yet alien feel of his suit under her hands felt like having the order of the world restored. For a few moments, she just stood there in his arms, completely unthinking, unable to do anything else.

After a few minutes, or maybe only moments, she began to realize how stiffly he held her, how his arms had stayed only loosely clasped around her. Remembering herself, and recalling how uncomfortable he had been with her at the hospital the last time she saw him, Lois quickly pulled away.

For the first time, she looked him in the face, and was startled at what she saw. His jaw was clenched tightly. When he spoke, his whole manner seemed incredibly tense, "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you."

Her knee-jerk reaction was to scold him for running away at yet another difficult time in her life, but she held her tongue. This was most certainly different, and though she regretted not having him around in the wake of Richard's death, she perfectly understood his reasons for keeping his distance. "It's all right, I understand," she assured him. "I'm just glad you're here now. It's been…" she suddenly found her throat constricting, preventing her from attempting to put into words what she could not have expressed anyway.

Superman's expression softened, though the underlying tenseness in his manner remained. "I can't imagine what you've been going through. You and Jason."

A pang of sympathy shot through her. Neither of them had really ever made it clear what role he was to play in Jason's life. But he had respected Richard, she thought, trusted him to do well by their son. And now they were faced with a whole new situation when they hadn't even begun to figure out their former one. She marvelled at his ability to hold back his own concerns to give her and Jason some space, but now that he was standing here in front of her, she felt an overwhelming desire to ask him to stay forever. But again, she managed to restrain herself. "I don't know how to describe what we've been going through. I don't even understand it."

"You don't have to," he replied gently. Then his eyes drifted away from hers slightly as he continued, "but I think I owe it to you to tell you the facts I know about Richard's murder."

Lois breathed in deeply, her intuition telling her this would be important. After a moment she said, "Maybe you should come in." He nodded silently, then followed her into apartment and to the living room. She stood behind a chair, picking away at a loose thread, a sense of unease emanating from both of them.

"Maybe you should sit down," he suggested.

That might have been a good idea, depending on what he was going to say. But the fact that he had suggested it made her so nervous she didn't want to move, didn't want to wait another second to hear what he had clearly come here to say. There was clearly something the matter with him and in her frazzled, exhausted state she couldn't stand another movement or moment of delay. "Just tell me," she insisted flatly.

He remained standing on the other side of the room from her, his hands noticeably clenched as he spoke. "Lex Luthor was responsible for Richard's death."

A feeling like a lock clicking open thudded against her heart. For the first time in the last few days, something made sense. When he said it, she knew it was absolutely true. "Oh my God," she whispered. "How did you find out?"

Here he hesitated slightly before replying, "He told me." Sensing she needed more explanation, he began again, taking a few pacing steps as he explained. "There was a fire at an orphanage at the time. Luthor had staged it to draw me away from Richard while he had him killed. He was there at the orphanage to gloat… he knew I couldn't get there in time."

The deep remorse in his voice and eyes that met her for a fleeting second spoke all the words necessary on that point. And while the reporter in Lois was suddenly itching to know why he hadn't told the police about any of this yet, something else was strangely more pressing on her mind, though she wasn't sure why. "What about Clark?" she asked. At that, he faltered, stopped pacing, and looked at her, though he remained silent. "All the evidence against him," she began to ramble, "it just- it's not that I want to believe it, but how can we be sure? I mean, do you know who Luthor got to pull the trigger? What if it was him?"

He stepped forward, closer to her, cutting off the rest of the itching questions she might have otherwise let flow out. "It wasn't," he said tersely.

The look on his face told her she should believe him implicitly. And what reason did she have not to? But still, the reporter inside her would not be satisfied until she had a complete, rational explanation for all that the police had presented about Clark. And she got the distinct sense that he was hiding something. He wasn't as visibly distressed as he was over just telling her about Luthor. Besides, since he had revealed that bit of information, he had only seemed to grow more tense, not less so. There was something else. "How do you _know_? How can you be positive?" she asked him, staring him directly in the eye.

He flinched, then breathed some kind of response, something about him and Clark, but she wasn't quite sure what he'd said. Which was odd, because she was sure it had been loud enough. But her brain suddenly seemed frozen. He was staring at her so emphatically, waiting for a response, and she didn't know what she was even supposed to respond to. "Sorry, what did you say?" she asked, part of her whispering that she knew perfectly well what he'd said, which seemed absolutely ridiculous as she couldn't recall it at all.

Superman breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he let the air out slowly, as if releasing something much more heavy along with it. This time when he said it, it was said with firm resolution: "I'm Clark Kent."

Lois would later have absolutely no recollection of how she felt or how she reacted in that moment. Whether her heart sped up or came to a screeching halt, if she was more stunned or angry, if she exploded in exclamations of doubt or denial. She remembered none of it. She wasn't sure she'd even experienced any of it in the first place. It was literally as if all her senses left her. The next thing she knew, she was coming out of what she struggling to open her eyes as a gentle, concerned voice whispered, "Lois… Lois?" and cold water running gently into her mouth and down her throat.

Finally, her senses were regained as she opened her eyes to see Superman crouching over her as she lay on the couch. She saw him, and when she did, she saw_him_- in the nervous concern in his eyes, she saw Clark Kent for the very first time. And it scared the hell out of her.

Lois jolted upright, and immediately regretted it. Black spots appeared before her eyes, and only his lightning-fast reflexes kept her from falling back and hitting her head on the table. He held her up gently for a moment before letting her go, convinced she wasn't going to pass out again. "Careful," he urged.

She said nothing, only stared at him as though he… well, as though he had just told her that the love of her life was, in fact, Clark Kent. From the look of things, he had no idea what to say next. But she, on the other hand, suddenly had a million questions running through her mind like a stock market ticker. There was hardly a way to know where to begin, so she went with the most obvious thing first. "Why are you just telling me this? Why are you telling me this _now_?!" It came out with more vehemence than she'd intended, but she really didn't care.

"Lois, I'm so sorry, believe me," he stammered a little, just like Clark always did, and it only made things worse. She felt a strange urge to scream as loudly as she could into his all-hearing ears, but stopped herself. He looked terribly apologetic and pained, and she realized this must have been hard for him as well. "Believe me, I never thought it would happen this way. And I wish I could stay and explain so many things, but I don't have much time."

She glanced at the clock, though she had no idea what good knowing the time would do her. "Why? You can't just tell me this and then fly off without an explanation." That was putting it lightly.

"I have to get back," he explained, "to the jail. The morning exercise time ends soon. They'll notice I'm gone then, if they haven't already."

The mention of Clark's, of his imprisonment sobered her considerably. She suddenly remembered the whole of the circumstances they were under, not just the great shock that was overtaking her at the moment. "Oh," she said softly, gravely.

"I need to get back, but I can't stay there any longer," he began. That made absolutely no sense to her, but a motion of his hand stopped her from voicing her questions. He continued, solemnly, "Last night- early this morning I found out that Lex Luthor tried to kill my mother, and did kill two friends she was with." That hit close to home for Lois, and calmed her considerably. The distress in his voice grew, though he tried to hold it under control, and she felt a very odd sense of déjà vu. "She's in a hospital in Kansas City. I flew there, just to look and see…" he trailed off, stood, and cleared his throat. "She's in a medically induced coma," he continued, beginning to walk slowly with his hands behind his back, striving for that confident Superman stride of his but faltering. "I can't really go see her yet. I can't protect her. And I know this is Luthor's doing and that if I give him any more chances, he's just going to kill her. And he'll try to get to you… and to Jason."

Lois felt herself paling. She wasn't quite sure if it was the suggestion of harm coming to Jason or the sudden realization that her son's patronage was must more complicated than she'd thought that was draining the blood from her face. Regardless, she felt an instant surge of protectiveness towards Jason. "I won't let that happen," she said flatly.

"I know," he replied, "I know you'll do everything in your power and I know how strong you are. But Lois, listen to me," at that, he walked back towards her and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, staring her levelly in the eye. "This time it's different." A beat, then: "He knows."

For some reason, she needed no explanation of what he meant. She realized all of a sudden that there was only one reason Luthor would have gone after Clark's mother in the first place. "Oh my God," she exclaimed quietly. "How did he find out?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. But when he drew me away from Richard, he called me by my name. He planned everything. The murder, the set-up, my mother… And he's not going to stop this time. Not even to save himself. This time it's personal. He's not after money or power or fame, he's after _me_. And everyone close to me." Seemingly itching to take action, he stood again. "Which is why I can't stay in prison any more. And I can't just escape, either- that wouldn't solve anything. Then I really would be guilty of something they could charge me with." A sickening feeling formed in Lois's stomach before he even said what she knew he was working up to. "I have to tell them who I am."

It took her less than a second to stand up, without wavering at all, and say, "Absolutely not." She shook her head. "That's insane. After all this time, you're just going to give up your anonymity? You've worked so hard to keep everyone- _everyone_ from knowing. That had to be for good reasons."

"Lois, please, I've thought about all of this. It's all I've done all night," he stated more than pleaded, as though he'd prepared himself for this. "This wasn't an easy decision to reach, but it's what has to be done. I need to get out. Coming clean about everything that happened is the only way to be released, and the only way the police and I can start tracking down Luthor and the others responsible for all of this."

But she was a step ahead of him. "If you do that, then everyone will know, not just Luthor. How safe do you think your mother and everyone you care about will be then?" From the slight change in his expression, she figured she'd hit upon something. "Can't you see that's exactly what Luthor wants you to do? To just throw away your life, your privacy, and to put huge targets on the back of anybody close to you? If you do that, he wins. Even if you find him, even if he gets put in jail for the rest of his life, he'll have won. You'll never be free from crazy people threatening your mother or Jason or me. This isn't just about Luthor."

A silence hung in the air. She saw his expression change slightly as he clearly considered her point. When he spoke again, his tone alone indicated his acknowledgement that she was right. "I don't know what else I can do."

"Can't you get out on bail?" Lois asked. Surely, it seemed like the most logical solution. But she felt incredibly odd speaking about this subject to Superman. Partly because the notion of Superman in jail was ludicrous, but largely because it meant acknowledging who he really was. And that seemed the most impossible thing of all.

He shook his head. "My arraignment is later this afternoon… but my attorney doesn't think I have much chance of getting out. Not for this kind of crime."

She was glad he didn't speak precisely about the crime. That circumstance had suddenly become exponentially more painful to consider than it had been last night. Still, he probably had a point about being released on bail. "Not even with your mother's state? You couldn't get out to see her?" he shook his head again. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "What if I tell them to?" He gave her a questioning look, so she elaborated. "A lot of their case is dependent on me." At this, she noticed him visibly wince, but tried to ignore the deeper issue there for the moment. "If I tell the DA and the judge that I think you should be released on bail, that I don't think you're guilty, that I'll testify _for _you if need be, it might make it difficult for them to prove enough to keep you in jail for now."

A look of gratitude passed over his face, but was quickly replaced by one of concern. "But Lois, even if that would work, I don't have any way to pay for the kind of bail bond I'd need. Most of my savings was spent taking care of my mother while I was gone."

"I'll pay for it," she responded immediately.

He gave her a skeptical look. "Lois, you don't have to do that..."

"So you're the only one allowed to do the rescuing?" she challenged.

"It's not that," he insisted, though she got the distinct feeling that had to be part of it. She held her tongue, but a distinct sense of urgency was hanging over the conversation, and she wasn't going to hold back much longer. She stared at him expectantly. "It wouldn't look good, for one thing," he explained. "You paying my bail after I've been arrested for killing your fiancé?"

"I don't give a damn how it looks," she insisted.

"How would you pay for it?" he inquired, sounding to her as though he wanted this to work, but was in fact worried about being a burden on her. Which she wasn't going to hear at this stage.

"I have some money saved," she insisted. "And then there's money from Richard's life insurance…"

At that, he held a hand up to cut her off. "No," he said flatly. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you use that money on me. It's just," he stammered again, and she saw eerily the traces of Clark in him even now as he stood before her as Superman. She wished he would stop that. As long as she stayed focus on this task, she felt she could push all her racing thoughts about Clark to the back of her mind. Thankfully, he spoke more firmly when he continued, "That money should be used to help you take care of Jason. That's what it's intended for."

"And who's going to help Jason when Lex Luthor is after him and his father is in prison."

As soon as the words were out, she wished she could have them back. She had barely acknowledged his relationship to Jason, had largely been avoiding it for the last few weeks. And now, well now she didn't know what to think of his relationship to either of them. But she certainly didn't mean to burst out with such an accusatory remark. Though he was always good at hiding his emotions (better than she'd ever imagined, apparently) there was no mistaking the look of deep pain and regret that settled on his face. Lois wanted to apologize, but it was so tense she felt saying anything at all would only make it worse. So she shut up.

It took him a few moments to regain his speech. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know it's my fault that-"

"Hey," she cut him off quickly, holding a hand up. "There are a lot of things we both need to talk about. Clearly." That, they would probably both agree, was probably the understatement of all time. "But now's not the time. Look, you have to get back there before they find out you're gone. And you have to trust me to help you get out of there." Their eyes met squarely, and she could see that he did have confidence in her. "And as soon as you're out, we'll go to Kansas. We'll go see your mother and we'll start finding the people behind all of this. Including Luthor. We can bring him to justice," she stated the last part firmly, her nails slightly digging into her palms unwittingly. She didn't quite realize just how much anger was bubbling inside of her until now. But it was true, she wasn't just broken hearted over Richard's death- she was furious.

And she could have sworn she saw in his eyes a glimmer, just a hint of that same anger. But most of all, she saw his characteristic determination returning. He stood up just a little taller, spoke a little louder. "All right," he agreed with a nod. "Do your best to get me out this afternoon. But Lois, if you can't, I'm going to have no choice but to tell them."

As far as she was concerned, that was not going to happen. "You can count on me," she insisted, with a small smile. "Now, go. You need to get back." He hesitated a moment, as though he wanted to find the right thing to say. As if there was any possible right thing to say after the conversation they'd just had and everything he'd suddenly dumped on her.

But he thought better of it, and just gave a nod. "Thank you," he said. He waited a beat, then disappeared in that familiar blue blur.

The second he was gone, Lois dropped back onto the couch and exhaled. Clark Kent. That thought just kept going through her mind. There was no value attached to it, no assessment, no coherent response to that revelation. She thought, _Clark Kent_ and couldn't get past that thought. She didn't notice that her hands were trembling.


End file.
